


In Case You Don't Stay Forever

by amandaithink



Series: Keeping You [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (briefly) - Freeform, (but very late), Accidental Bonding, Accidental Marriage, Alien Biology, Episode: s02e10 Love & Monsters, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Tumblr: doctorroseprompts, Vaginal Sex, spring bingo prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaithink/pseuds/amandaithink
Summary: His eyes drifted back down to the box. Really, she was horrible at packing. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it. Granted, he didn’t know a lot about packing - it’s not like he’d ever actually had to do it - but still. Maybe he could help her. The Doctor was pretty sure that generally all of the clothing should be in it’s own spot, not mixed in with tangled jewelry and frayed earbuds and the little mirror she always kept in her purse.Absentmindedly he picked up the mirror. His face appeared to be much more pale than normal, and the visage was not improved by the tiny crack he noticed running through the reflective glass. Rose’s hand suddenly covered his and the mirror. He jumped slightly and looked up.“What’s going on? Really?” she asked and he didn’t understand how she couldn’t already know. Sure, he sometimes missed the subtleties of this kind of thing, but Rose normally excelled in this area.How could she just … not acknowledge the fact that she wasleaving?And how was he supposed to say something about it if she wasn’t? If she didn’t think itmattered?
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Keeping You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837879
Comments: 46
Kudos: 183





	In Case You Don't Stay Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for [doctorroseprompts](doctorroseprompts.tumblr.com)' spring fic bingo, for the prompt 'clean'. And it's very late. But better late than never, right? (My pitiful defense is that I thought this would be a 3k fic, rated G - life did not go that way, the characters had other ideas).
> 
> There are not enough thanks I could possibly give to [more1weasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/more1weasley/pseuds/more1weasley) for not only betaing, but listening to all of my rants, helping me to finally make an outline over 2/3 of the way in, and coming up with a real title when my brain went offline after editing. All the love <3
> 
> All mistakes are definitely mine, and also I own nothing.

While they’re in the TARDIS, time is relative. That being said, the Doctor had gotten used to dealing with human circadian rhythms. He’d have to be, at this point. So even with time being relative, the Doctor couldn’t help but notice that Rose was _much_ later coming into the console room than usual. And he was bored.

 _You know what isn’t boring_ , he thought, _the Rhibelini Festival on Neghlyvryn_.

He had already checked the galley to see if Rose was up having tea. She wasn’t. Or at least, she hadn’t been. It had been about 6 minutes since he’d checked … you know, relatively. It couldn’t hurt to check again.

Of course, he could check her room. But she might be sleeping. Or getting ready. The Doctor didn’t fancy getting told off for waking her (again), and the one time that he had tried to talk to her through her ensuite door over the sound of her shower it had been a complete waste of time. 

So, he checked the galley again. Still no Rose.

Deciding it to be worth the risk, he made her a cup of tea - a peace offering in case he _did_ interrupt her sleep. Rose Tyler is not a morning person (relatively) - something the Doctor had learned very early on.

Once he had the tea made, he walked down the corridor to Rose’s room and was surprised to find her door propped open by some cardboard boxes sitting in the hall. They weren’t taped shut, and he couldn’t resist opening one up. He regretted doing so immediately.

Inside of the box sat a sheet set he had seen on her bed, the old boombox that had been on top of her dresser along with a handful of CDs, and a few articles of clothing that he remembered having seen her wear. It seemed like a rock had lodged in his stomach. 

Sitting down the cup of tea, he opened another box to find more of Rose’s possessions.

“Whatcha doin’?”

His entire body froze as he jerked his head up to see Rose standing in front of him, holding a pair of joggers and an empty picture frame. 

“Doctor? What’s wrong?”

It occurred to him, vaguely, that he must be making her uncomfortable - that he was too still, too silent. Unnaturally silent. His respiratory bypass had kicked in, and he knew that he could breathe, should breathe, but yet … what could he possibly say to her once he did start breathing again?

There were things that he thought about constantly - where to travel next, how to keep the TARDIS in tip top shape for said travelling, the state of the Universe, whether Rose is healthy and happy. Things like that. Then there were things he did his best to _never_ think about - the Time War, Gallifrey That Was, what could happen to the Universe if he stopped paying attention for even a moment, and also … when and how Rose Tyler would eventually and inevitably leave him. 

He avoided thinking about it, but in all of the moments where the thought crashed down on him he had never pictured _this_. This unprompted packing away of things, no warning whatsoever.

And the thing was, they all left in the end. He knew this. He’d _always_ known this. That if something horrifying didn’t happen, they would go on to live their magnificent human lives. Because he could offer them all of Time and Space, but that was never enough. It wasn’t what humans _needed_. He knew that. Had always known that. But …

Why _now_?

He still had so much he wanted to show her.

Was it something he had done? Something he hadn’t done? Things had been tense between them for a bit, granted, but they’d gotten past it. Things had been fantastic lately. What had changed?

“Doctor, you’re scaring me.”

He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. The real question finally presented itself: why, of all of the people to eventually leave him, did it have to be _Rose_?

“I’ve brought you tea,” he told her, pasting a grin onto his face and not feeling the least bit surprised when she didn’t look like she believed him. 

Rose hesitated before placing her things into the box he had open, then locating the mug still sitting on the floor. The tea had likely gone cold, but she still took a cautious sip, eying him warily.

His eyes drifted back down to the box. Really, she was horrible at packing. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it. Granted, he didn’t know a lot about packing - it’s not like he’d ever actually had to do it - but still. Maybe he could help her. The Doctor was pretty sure that generally all of the clothing should be in it’s own spot, not mixed in with tangled jewelry and frayed earbuds and the little mirror she always kept in her purse. 

Absentmindedly he picked up the mirror. His face appeared to be much more pale than normal, and the visage was not improved by the tiny crack he noticed running through the reflective glass. Rose’s hand suddenly covered his and the mirror. He jumped slightly and looked up.

“What’s going on? Really?” she asked and he didn’t understand how she couldn’t _already know_. Sure, he sometimes missed the subtleties of this kind of thing, but Rose normally excelled in this area.

How could she just … not acknowledge the fact that she was _leaving_? And how was he supposed to say something about it if she wasn’t? If she didn’t think it _mattered_?

“Why?” he finally managed, the single word being ripped out of him.

“What?” Somehow Rose still appeared genuinely confused. “Why what?”

Normally he could talk and talk until the words coming out of his mouth no longer made sense even to him, but speaking seemed beyond him, so he waved a hand at all of the boxes.

“This? Well, I didn’t think you’d mind if I-”

“You didn’t think I’d _mind_?”

If anything, she looked even more confused and also a little _angry_? How could she-

He didn’t have time to even _process_ that before she began speaking.

“I mean, I know you never clean but I thought-”

And he didn’t catch the rest of what she said. _Clean_.

She wasn’t _leaving_. She was _cleaning_.

“-nd mum was doin’ some spring cleaning the last time we stopped by the flat, so I figured, you know … I’ve tidied up, sure, but I don’t think I’ve ever-”

The Doctor finally tuned back in when he realized how _ridiculous_ he must look right now. She had just been _cleaning_. Of _course_ Rose wouldn’t just- just leave without saying anything.

“No! No, it’s fine,” he assured her, only noticing belatedly that he had interrupted, but continuing on anyway, “you can clean all you’d like! Cleaning is excellent! _Molto bene_! Oooh, I should say that more often. _Molto bene_ , Rose Tyler, clean all you’d like. I’ll just go get the TARDIS sorted.” He pointed behind him, and began backing away.

“Wait, then what’s wrong?” she asked, not distracted in the slightest.

“Hmm?” As a stalling tactic it left a lot to be desired, but still. The Doctor smiled, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. 

“Doctor, you looked like … you were sad and scared or somethin’. What did you think was goin’ on?”

 _Rassilon_ , this would be embarrassing.

“Well, I … I may have thought you were, er, packing,” he admitted, lowering his head a little and scratching the back of his neck.

She came up to him and gave him a hug, his arms automatically wrapping around her in return. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But then she started laughing.

“You really think I’m that bad at packing?” she asked, barely holding back more giggles as she turned away from him to look back at the boxes.

“I- well, if you must know, I had been prepared to offer my help. But you weren’t packing, so …” the Doctor trailed off, not knowing what else he could say.

“I think you’ve just never _actually_ cleaned before.”

Rose didn’t wait for him to respond to her accusation, wandering back into her room. He followed, mood shifting from embarrassment to irritation.

“I’ll have you know-” he started, but didn’t finish. The Doctor had been in her room plenty of times, and he knew that Rose was not the most tidy of companions but this was _utter chaos_. He had just been in here last night (relatively) and there had been the usual clothes scattered on the floor, cosmetics strewn about her vanity, magazines and books and trinkets haphazardly covering every flat surface … but now, _now_ it looked like that every single thing she possessed on the TARDIS was piled onto her floor and bed. “What _happened_ in here?!” 

She glanced back at him, not looking the least bit concerned. 

“I’m sorting through it all.”

“ _How_?”

This did not get a reply so much as an exasperated head shake as Rose sat down near one of the many piles and started turning it into a series of smaller piles. Questioning her methods didn’t seem like a good use of his time, and now the Doctor couldn’t remember why he had come in here to begin with. Well, he had originally come to her room so that they could go someplace exciting but obviously _that_ wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. She was so very focused on her task, and try as he might, the Doctor couldn’t figure out her process for decision making _or_ what each little new pile she made meant. After watching her ‘clean’ for a little while longer he finally remembered.

“I know how to clean,” he said abruptly.

“Yeah?”

The response was idle, and he could tell that she wasn’t actually paying attention to him. The Doctor moved in front of her, almost standing in the area she was sorting through. After a moment, Rose looked up at him. A slow smile spread across her face before she stood, put her hands on his shoulders and got him to shift until he stood at the foot of her bed. He automatically sat down before he continued speaking.

“I’m great at cleaning. I have centuries of cleaning experience! And you know what? The TARDIS _never_ looks like this when _I’m_ the one doing the cleaning.”

“Riiight,” she replied, raising both eyebrows and crossing her arms. “And what kind of cleaning is that then? ‘Cause I’m bettin’ it’s the kind where you run outta space and just have the TARDIS make you a new room to put the junk you don’t actually use.”

“I- it’s not _junk_ ,” the Doctor quickly pointed out first, “and I don’t- I get rid of things! I’ve gotten rid of loads of things! You’ve just never seen me get rid of things.”

As he said the words, the Doctor tried to remember some specific instances where he had gotten rid of things. Nothing came to mind, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. This cleaning would have happened in a previous body, and even with his superior memory some things always ended up a bit fuzzy in between regenerations. Especially humdrum boring things. He couldn’t understand why Rose was doing _this_ when they could be playing Jikltaii at the Rhibelini Festival. Or almost anything else, really.

“Oh? So when do you do all this cleaning? While I sleep?”

Honestly, the Doctor couldn’t figure out why it was so hard for her to believe. He was 901 years old! Or was it 902?

“No. It’s just been awhile,” he huffed. 

“Mmmhmm.” 

With that, she stepped back over to her messy pile of stuff. He did not feel as though he’d proven his point. Especially since she hadn’t asked for his help at all.

“I can prove it!” The words came out of his mouth without his explicit consent, but there wasn’t much use turning back now. He’d been bored earlier anyway, might as well _clean_.

Ugh.

“Yeah?” Her response was, again, distracted. Obviously this sorting business took up most of Rose’s attention. With a snort that the Doctor would never admit to later, he left her room and set about wandering the corridors, looking for someplace to demonstrate the magnificent Time Lord cleaning skills which he surely must possess.

Entering his workshop, he looked around the large room with its many tables and cabinets, parts strewn about every available surface. Seemed like as good a place as any to start.

This was where Rose found him, a few hours later according to Rose-Time (the only time worth tracking while in the vortex).

“Whacha doin’?” she asked, leaning a hip against the desk where he sat.

The Doctor looked up, forgetting that he still had loupes on both sides of his specs and getting a very close up view of his companion’s cleavage. He quickly threw off the glasses, momentarily flustered. 

“What was that?” he asked, voice more high pitched than he would have liked.

“I said, ‘whacha doin’?’,” Rose repeated, giggling before reaching up to prod the quantum-artron-spatial-delineator he had been working on. He quickly grabbed her hand before she could accidentally break it.

“No touching! This is a very delicate piece of machinery,” he explained. “It’s time travel technology, I forgot I even had it! Was thinking about finding an old Delorean, install this thing in it, but the TARDIS would get very jealous. Not sure what else to do with it. But there’s got to be something, right? Never know when you might need a quick getaway. Oh, I should make a case for it. Then I can put it in my pocket, and next time we get stuck away from the TARDIS - because we don’t have to use it for time travel if we don’t want to, you know - then zap! Out of harm's way. Well, assuming we have something we could install it into. Wouldn’t do any good if we were stuck in a prison cell again. You know, I’m pretty sure I have something in here that can shrink things. Could shrink a Delorean, put _that_ in my pocket. Would also need to carry the right tools to get it large again. Oh, but then it would only work if we had enough space … do you think most prison cells could fit a car? No, nevermind, I’m sure I’ll come up with somethi-”

“Thought you were supposed to be cleaning?” Rose interrupted, her smile wide with barely contained glee.

“I … I am cleaning.”

Instead of responding, she simply crossed her arms and looked around the workshop. The Doctor followed her gaze, frowning. Eventually she refocused on him, but still said nothing.

“What?” he finally asked, the silence starting to irritate him.

“Looks the same to me.”

“It does not!” Standing up, he grabbed Rose’s hand and led her to a different work bench. “See, this table used to have a Tz’Qir radio, a 35th century microscope from Sirius Colony IV, a selection of broken spanners, and a … well, it’s a thing that can figure out the atmospheric anomalies of gas giants for core-exploration. The Cayriil invented it, but the name of the device translates to ‘loo’. Isn’t that odd?”

“Really? So if I asked where the loo was on …”

“Cayrsilia.”

“On Cayrsilia, they’d think I was lookin’ to, what? Fly into Jupiter?”

“Pretty much. Not that you could use a toilet on Cayrsilia. Very dangerous atmosphere. Not safe for humans at all. You’d have to be in a spacesuit.”

“Yeah? Like proper space explorers?” Rose asked, looking much more excited than he felt she should.

“What do you mean ‘proper space explorers’?! We’re the most proper of space explorers!”

Rose rolled her eyes, but then smiled with her tongue peaking out from between her teeth. The Doctor resisted the urge to mutter more about spacesuits now that he realized she was just winding him up.

“So, what’s on this table now?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, so look here- spanners? All fixed. And I managed to combine the radio and the microscope AND a vintage Earth television. Not sure what to call this new device, but it can translate sound waves into 6D visuals, find restaurant reviews from anywhere in time and space, and power a small house for about 2 years. I took the loo apart, improved it, and put it back together. Now it can figure out _any_ atmospheric anomaly on _any_ type of planet … if that planet has an atmosphere, that is. And I found a Chrono-Camera with only a few bugs to work out, a Silurian Cryogenic Conductor, and a music box from the planet Pip!”

“Okaaaay,” Rose began slowly, “but how is that cleaning? You ended up with more stuff on the table, and didn’t get rid of anything … or even put anything away.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Well, at least not without admitting defeat. So what he ended up declaring was, “Time Lord cleaning is different than human cleaning. It’s a process. It takes time. You’ve interrupted me.”

“Fine, then. I’ll leave ya to it.”

With that, she left. The Doctor looked around the workshop again, deciding that this was a horrible room to try to clean - way too distracting. And not a single thing in here was something he would want to be rid of to begin with.

So he decided to clean the galley. The TARDIS had plenty of alien kitchen gadgets that he and Rose rarely used, so that was bound to be easy.

And so, there he was a couple hours later when she came into the galley.

“Doctor?” Rose called as the door swung open. “You in here? I was thinking-”

He looked up when she stopped talking. Rose had paused in the middle of the room, staring at him.

“You were thinking?”

“What are you doing to the toaster?” she asked. “And what’s all this?”

The Doctor glanced down at the toaster he had been sonicking, before looking up and around the room from his position sitting on the floor near a dismantled macrowave. He had a 42nd century soda-maker plugged in on the counter, dishes and parts of appliances overflowing from the sink, and half eaten snacks littering various surfaces.

“I’ve been cleaning,” he told her, “and as for the toaster, I’m improving it. _Imagine_ , Rose, the _perfect piece of toast_. Every time!”

“You asked me to imagine the perfect piece of toast 2 days ago. And last week. Also, the last time we were at my mum’s. She’s still not been able to figure out how to work it, by the way. Had to go out and buy a new toaster. She says you owe her 20 quid.”

“I showed her how! Not that it matters anyway, since I’ve improved upon the design. This will take a biiiiiit longer, but the results will speak for themselves, I’m sure of it.”

“How much longer?” Rose asked, leaning against the counter and examining a Stoian tart for a moment before taking a bite.

“About an hour.”

“I’m not gonna wait an hour for toast, Doctor.”

He scoffed before refocusing on the aforementioned toaster. “You can’t rush perfection,” he chastised. 

They were both silent for a few moments, the only sounds in the galley being Rose chewing and the occasional whir of the sonic. 

“Anyway,” Rose said, upon finishing her tour of the various snacks, “I was thinking, for dinner, could we do Earth, America, 1920’s?”

At the prospect of finally getting out of the TARDIS, the Doctor quickly abandoned the toaster, bouncing onto his feet.

“I know just where to take you!”

Rose chuckled before leaving to get ready with a promise to meet him in the console room once she finished. No time was specified, however, and after 20 minutes of waiting - trying and failing to find something the TARDIS would allow him to fix without shocking him - he wandered into the wardrobe room. He found her modeling a period appropriate honey colored silk evening dress in front of the floor length changing mirrors. It was decorated with flowers made up of rhinestones. There were more dresses piled on either side of her.

“What do you think?” she asked, noticing him through the mirror as he approached.

“You look lovely,” the Doctor told her, stopping in front of one of the dress piles beside her and idly going through them.

“Well, thank you,” Rose smiled, turning to give him a mock curtsey. “Think the color doesn’t suit my hair, though. And it is a little … hey, wherever you’re takin’ us, do you know how they’ll be dressing? Like, how Gatsby is it gonna be?”

“Very, very Gatsby.”

“Oh, perfect! I know just what I’m gonna wear!” she exclaimed, rushing over to the opposite pile. “Are you dressin’ up?”

“Why would I have to dress up? What’s wrong with my suit? And how can a piece of clothing ‘not go with your hair’, anyway?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your suit.” She rolled her eyes before grabbing a white dress and quickly disappearing behind a changing partition before he could get a good look at it. “Was just curious, ‘cause you did your hair special when we tried to see Elvis the other day,” she continued, and then the yellow dress appeared, dangling over the side of the partition. The Doctor found his eyes locked on the unassuming garment as he tried to attach less importance to the implications of it being there. His success was middling, at best. 

“I suppose I could find a nice hat,” he found himself saying. “Hats in the 20’s, very stylish. And I did say Gatsby, so-”

Rose emerged from behind the partition, wearing a white, floral inspired dress complete with metallic gold accents and long fringe on the skirt. She looked _radiant_. 

“Alright, then. By the time you find a hat, I should have my hair done,” she said, as if she hadn’t just appeared before him looking every inch a goddess. Then she somehow felt the need to ask him, “So, how do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” the Doctor replied immediately. 

Blushing slightly, she did a quick twirl before heading toward the door. After throwing a quick smirk over her shoulder, he found himself alone in the wardrobe room with the realization that he had been ogling his companion’s bum. 

Weeeell, it certainly wasn’t the first time Rose had had a devastating effect on his sense of propriety. Or general self control, for that matter. 

“Right,” he said to himself, “ _hats_.”

But he couldn’t focus on hats. All he could think about was Rose Tyler. Who was likely sitting at her vanity right now, doing her hair. Who always looked beautiful, but was dressed especially stunningly at the moment. Who he … felt much more than friendship for. Who, just hours ago, he had thought was leaving him. 

She wasn’t, though. She wasn’t going to leave him. At least, not today. Likely not within the next few weeks. What about in the following months, though? Or years?

Everyone left eventually.

Someday, so would she. And if just _thinking_ about it made him feel like his hearts would pound out of his chest and his stomach had bottomed out, then-

Not now, though. She was still _here_ now. With him, on the TARDIS, as it should be.

Really, now was all they would ever have. Anything else would be crossing their own timelines, and they both knew how spectacularly _that_ went.

The Doctor slowly realized that he had been muttering ‘now’ to himself for a few moments, staring blankly at a stack of hat boxes. “Now. Now … _now hats_!”

He would have to be quick if he wanted to have time to run to the garage, find the stash of era-appropriate currency, and give Willy a ring to cash in on that favor all before Rose finished with her hair.

Luckily, he’d gotten off the phone with his friend not a moment too soon. Not that Rose would have noticed if he hadn’t - as soon as she walked into the console room, the Doctor watched as all of her attention became captured by the car sitting in the temporarily dimensionally extended space.

“What in the-” She cut herself off, jogging over to the vehicle and inspecting it. “Oh! It’s an American car,” Rose noted, running a hand over the dark green exterior. “Where did you even _get_ this?”

“It’s a 1923 Studebaker Big Six! Also known as a Whiskey 6, very popular among bootleggers during the American Prohibition,” the Doctor explained, running over to the car and hopping into the driver’s seat before patting the passenger seat with a manic grin. “I won it in a secret poker game. All of the players are supposed to remain anonymous, but rumor has it that ol’ Scarface himself was there,” he said with a wink.

Rose snorted before walking over to the other side and carefully getting in. With her hair and makeup finished, she looked every inch a beautiful 1920s socialite. He began mentally preparing himself for an evening of trying to ignore all of the blokes that would inevitably come up to them asking her for a dance, or to buy her a drink.

“How’re ya gonna drive this through the doors?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “The TARDIS can handle it. If she can make the console room big enough for a car, making the doors bigger is easy peasy. More importantly, Rose Tyler, is the fact that you’ve still not said a word about my hat!” The Doctor raised both eyebrows as he pointed to the brown fedora atop his head, covering up his great hair. It matched his suit perfectly and she hadn’t said a word.

“You look lovely,” she giggled, before giving him one of his favorite tongue in teeth grins and reaching up to adjust the way it sat on his head. “Pardon me for getting distracted by a vintage car in the console room.”

“It’s not a vintage car,” the Doctor corrected as he turned the ignition and put it into gear, quietly hoping he remembered how to drive the thing. “Out there it’s 1926, this beauty will only be 3 years old. But if you want to get technical, I won it in 1924. So it’s actually only a year old, barely used. Like new, this car is.”

With that, he hit the gas and sped through the doors, both of them laughing as he drove.

Once out the doors and on the street, the Doctor looked around quickly and was quite pleased to note that he had gotten it right this time. New York, 1926, just like he’d planned. Which was a relief, really - the chances of them not finding any danger were much greater when he managed to get the flight correct (not that he would be admitting that to Rose anytime soon, though he suspected she already knew). He glanced over at her, smiling at the way she gazed at the city around them in open awe as they drove up Fifth Avenue.

Yes, he decided, the car was a good idea. Just as he began to wonder why he didn’t make more use of the TARDIS garage, the Doctor needed to forcibly slam on the brakes, having barely noticed the street light as he had been paying more attention to Rose.

She careened into the dashboard - seatbelts, not yet - thankfully having quick enough instincts to put her arms in front of herself. 

“What the-”

Rose’s sentence went unfinished as she gazed at the large, bronze signal tower in the middle of the street.

“Doctor, it’s green. Why aren’t you going?” she asked.

“1920’s New York, green doesn’t mean go yet. Green means this street stops and cross streets go. We go on white,” he informed her, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. _This_ was why he didn’t like driving. Traffic laws. Well, traffic in general. Not much traffic on foot. _No_ traffic in the TARDIS.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rose complained, as the light turned white.

“Well, they’re new. For that matter, so are cars still, technically. Haven’t quite figured everything out yet.”

He made a quick left onto West 49th and then realized he would have to find a place to _park_ . The Doctor silently vowed to avoid driving at all costs. At least, not in any sort of city. Well, no sort of city with streets on the ground. He would quite fancy driving a hovercraft around Mailboon on the planet Toff. Maybe they could go there next. Well, Neghlyvryn first, for the festival. _Then_ Toff.

Just as he almost drove past his intended destination, the Doctor noticed valets. Great system, valets. Maybe driving wasn’t all bad. Rose, oblivious to all of his internal monologue, just happily exited the car as soon as he handed the valet the keys. 

“So, where are we?” she whispered, taking his arm as they walked inside.

“This, Rose Tyler, is the _exclusive_ Puncheon club. In a few years, they’ll move and Rockefeller Center will be built. They’ll change their name to ‘Jack and Charlie’s 21’, and then eventually become just ‘the 21 club’, or ‘21’. Still around in your time, very famous, and right now a proper speakeasy.” The maitre d approached, interrupting his lecture, and the Doctor pulled out the psychic paper before they were quickly escorted to a table. 

They were mostly quiet for a few minutes as they chose their drinks and Rose perused the menu. Once their orders had been taken, though, the Doctor stretched his legs out and leaned back as much as he could in his seat without shifting it onto two legs and potentially toppling it over (he had barely lived that down the last time he and Rose had managed to go out to eat, and did not fancy a repeat performance). 

“So,” he said, after taking a sip of his drink - they had both agreed to try an Old Fashioned, and he found that it wasn’t _too_ bad as far as alcoholic drinks went (not that it would affect him the way it would Rose), “what made you decide on the ‘20s for dinner?”

“Oh, right! Well, a few weeks ago I was reading the Great Gatsby while you were working on the TARDIS. It had been on a shelf in the library titled ‘great Earth literature’,” she said, making air quotes.

“Well it is!” he was compelled to defend. “You know, that book just came out a year ago here, and _did not_ get rave reviews, and let me tell y-”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Rose continued, shifting into a slight slouch as she rested her elbows on the table and her chin onto loose fists, “I’d completely forgotten about it - I think I might agree with those reviewers you were about to complain about - and then I’d decided to take all the clothes I thought I’d get rid of into the wardrobe room instead and saw rack after rack of ‘20s style flapper dresses. Just had to have an excuse to wear one.” She then uncurled, sitting up to finally take a sip of her drink. “Oh, this is actually really good! Thought you were crazy, ordering something with whatever ‘bitters’ is in it.”

The Doctor’s jaw twitched, barely able to restrain himself from starting a debate about ‘The Great Gatsby’. That’s not how he wanted this evening to go. He had _plans_ , after all. Then he replayed what she had told him. Rose had put her old clothes in the wardrobe room. Because she had been cleaning all day.

His mind couldn’t help but flash back to this morning, yet again, when he had thought she’d been packing. The memory had been playing at random intervals throughout the day, yes, but it still left him breathless each time. And each time he had to remind himself that she _hadn’t_ been packing. She _wasn’t_ leaving. She was _here_. Right _now_. The Doctor and Rose Tyler, sipping Old Fashions in prohibition-era America. 

By the time he realized that she was waiting for him to say something, the Doctor’s train of thought had disoriented him so much that he only managed to say, “Oh.”

An awkward silence followed, in which he quickly replayed everything she had said (again), and Rose sipped her drink while people-watching. So when he started an enthusiastic lecture on ‘bitters’, Rose (as well as several other nearby patrons) noticeably jumped.

The evening was not progressing quite as he had hoped, despite how well it had started. This is why he shouldn’t have _planned it_. He’d always been notoriously rubbish with plans. But he had cashed in a favor, so there was no point giving it up entirely - at least, not yet.

It was a bit of a relief when their food arrived. Gave him time to regroup. A band began to set up as they ate - the perfect opportunity. 

Unfortunately, Rose said something before he could.

“Oh, is there going to be dancing?” she asked, “I definitely want to stay for the dancing. What kind of dances did they do in the ‘20s?”

And really, the fact that she could be quicker than him was a small part in the great whole of reasons why he … felt so strongly for her.

“Oooh the foxtrot, the charleston, the shimmy - the 1920s is a great era for dancing! This is when the lindy hop became popular! And it looks like it’s a swing band.” He said, gesturing towards their instruments. “I wonder if they call it ‘Saturday Swing’. I love some good alliteration.”

“Is it a Saturday?”

“Yup!” the Doctor replied, popping the ‘P’ and giving his eyebrows a theatrical wiggle just to make her laugh - which she did. “Saturday, Summer, New York City, America, Earth, 1926.” He had to physically hold himself back from adding ‘the perfect day’ to the end of that sentence. There was no use tempting fate. Words held power, at least when it came to telepathic beings of the higher species. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite the kind of telepath strong enough to hold much influence in that sphere of reality. But he held enough for it to be dangerous.

“Perfect night to go dancing,” Rose said instead. Because of course she did.

“Right you are!” he replied with a smile, sitting down his utensils next to his half finished plate once the first test notes could be heard through the room. Rose followed suit, and by the time the Doctor had paid their bill - which he did not need to be teased quite _that_ much for remembering for once, ta - the band began to play and others were heading toward the dance floor.

They danced together. They danced, and it being the first time he’d really danced with Rose in this body, he was _so_ glad that he hadn’t forgotten how. If anything, his dancing had improved in this body, compared to the last one. Which … good, that was good. The only problem was that this band was not playing any slow songs. On any other day, the Doctor would be pleased - the best dances were for the upbeat ones, after all, and who wants to slow down when they go out dancing? Except this time, he did. 

It was almost as if the Universe was playing a prank on him.

At least Rose appeared to be to be having the time of her life. She picked up on all of the dances easily, the way she always did. After five songs had been played through she started to get a little breathless even though she’d yet to ask to take a break. She was smiling and laughing. He was smiling and laughing. Hadn’t done the charleston in over a hundred years, but he still had the moves.

Still, it seemed to be about time to start phase three. So he grabbed her hands, swung her around, and then led her to the edge of the dancefloor.

“How do you feel about dessert?” the Doctor asked, even though what he’d meant to say was ‘let’s go’. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out how his wires had gotten crossed, suspecting that it had something to do with the way his companion was panting next to him, trying to catch her breath.

“Dessert sounds good. What do th-”

He didn’t wait for her to finish, taking her hand and tugging her toward the doors. “Let’s go!” he finally managed to say, over enunciating the words.

“I wasn’t done dancing,” Rose complained, taking her hand away as they reached the valet. She crossed her arms, and the Doctor did his best to avoid her glare as he waited for the car. He had a _plan_. For some reason.

“There will be more dancing,” he told her. “Like I said, it’s Saturday night. Why would we stay in one place? With one band? The New York nightlife, Rose Tyler! We’re in the city that never sleeps!”

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her body relax, and figured it now safe to turn around. The Doctor was glad that he did when she started laughing again. He loved her laugh.

“Oh my god, Doctor! Are we going clubbing?”

An indignant noise escaped him, which he tried his best to ignore. _Clubbing_? Really? Before he could voice his complaints on her word choice, the valet pulled up with his car.

“You’ve gotta tip ‘im,” Rose unhelpfully whispered in his ear as she walked past him to get into the vehicle.

The cheek on her. Nevermind the fact that he _had_ forgotten that he was supposed to do that. It’s not like it’s his fault that humans and money were so complicated. By the time he joined her in the car, the Doctor had decided to let the clubbing comment slide. Just this once. (But honestly, over 900 years old and she thinks that he’s going to go _clubbing_? Or that there was even _clubbing_ in the 1920s?).

(But to be truly honest, if she were to ask him to take her clubbing, he didn’t think there existed any scenario where he could refuse her - and he really, _really_ hoped that she never figured this out).

It wasn’t a long drive at all to their next destination. He made a left onto 7th Avenue and then glanced toward Rose, who stared at their surroundings with rapt attention. When he tuned back into the task at hand, they were almost there. But then …

“Wait, was that Broadway?” she asked, as he began turning right onto 45th Street. 

“It is!” he exclaimed, turning the wheel harder and very nearly causing an accident as he turned onto Broadway at a severe angle. They ignored the shouts and horns of other motorists as the Doctor sped up and began driving up Broadway. Because sure, he had a plan, but every plan had room for some improvisation - or, at least, his always did.

Rose laughed, and as he slowed down (sure that no one was about to stop him and complain about Earth traffic laws) he took a hand off of the wheel and threaded their fingers together.

“You know,” he told her conversationally, as they took in the lights and the buildings and the people walking around on this hot summer night, “I used to drive a car all the time. I’m quite good at it. I should do it more often.”

“I don’t know if the world could handle you driving more often,” she teased, squeezing his hand. “I didn’t even know you _could_ drive.”

“What? You think I can fly the TARDIS, but a human car is beyond me?”

“When you say you can _fly_ the TARDIS-”

“I don’t know why I tell you anything. You’re never going to let me live down not passing my test, are you? I’ve learned by _doing_.”

“‘M just teasin’,” Rose said, before leaning her head against his shoulder. This. This was more like it. The Doctor considered just continuing on up Broadway until the road ended. “How many different cars have you got in the TARDIS, anyway?”

“Ohh blimey, I’m not sure. We could tour the garage later. Try to find out. Though I’m sure only a couple are actually cars as you know them. All of time and space, all kinds of ways to get around. It’s actually quite shocking, the number of times I’ve had to … _borrow_ a vehicle and end up driving it straight into the TARDIS to make a quick getaway.”

“I’m not shocked at all. Sounds just like you.”

He made a noncommittal hum before making an abrupt U-turn to head back toward his intended destination - just to hear the complaints again. Rose turned in her seat, smiling and waving at the offended people. With a whoop, the Doctor sped the rest of the way back down the street, not slowing down until the Hotel Astor once again came into view. He braked with a screech in front of the valet.

“No joyrides,” the Doctor informed the shocked looking kid as he tossed him the keys. Rose tried and failed to stop giggling, taking his arm before he escorted her inside.

While she immediately began looking at the murals in the lobby, he walked up to the front desk and quickly set his affairs in order. Good to know that he had gotten the date _exactly_ right. Up until that moment, he just knew that he had gotten it close enough. And Rose was still admiring the artwork by the time everything had been settled.

“Ready?” he asked her, having silently strolled up behind her in order to peer over her shoulder at de Leftwich Dodge’s interpretation of ancient New York (you could tell that he’d never been). 

She jumped slightly, startled, before turning and taking his hand. “Where to?”

“Ohh I was thinking L’Orangerie for dessert, but there’s at least a dozen more options here. We’re at the Hotel Astor, where you can pretty much choose where you want to eat based on the design era you most want to look at.”

“Really?” Rose laughed. “And what’s the Orangerie like, then?”

“Ohhh, it’s also called the Palm Garden, or the Italian Garden. Really, what it says on the tin. There’s orange trees, palm trees, and for the time period they do a great job at making it seem like an outdoor Italian garden. I mean, it’s no Epcot, but then again that won’t be around until the early ‘80s. We should go! Opening day! Orlando, Florida! I bet it’s spectacular!”

“One thing at a time, there, yeah? We’ll do Epcot tomorrow. If we’re gonna spend a day riding rides, we’ll want to be well rested. Let’s go to this Italian Garden.”

The Doctor took her hand, leading her past the lobby and toward the centre of the hotel, talking as he did. “You mean _you’ll_ have to be well rested. I took a kip two days ago. I’ve enough energy to ride all of the rides. Twice!”

“‘M I just slowin’ you down, then?” Rose asked, and he could tell that she was joking, really, he could. But the idea that she might ever think that to be the case was abhorrent.

He stopped just before they reached the doors, stepping slightly to the side so that they wouldn’t be interrupted by other diners trying to get in or out.

“Rose Tyler, you could _never_ slow me down,” he told her, sincerely. Their eyes locked, and he could tell that she believed him even before she nodded.

“Yeah,” she eventually said. “Okay.”

“Good.” The Doctor swallowed, suddenly uncertain. Should he kiss her now? He had originally thought that that part would happen later, but now was probably a good time … right?

Before he could make his move, a side door that he’d somehow failed to notice right behind Rose opened and there was an awkward bit where they and the staff member trying to exit had to shuffle about, apologies all around, and then the moment was lost. Typical, really.

“So, dessert?” she reminded him, just as he had begun mentally kicking himself for not having moved just a little _faster_.

“Yes, right, dessert!” He forced a smile as they entered the Orangerie, but it quickly became genuine as Rose gasped. The Doctor watched as she took in the room, lit in soft blues and violets, covered in vines and ferns, trees dotted around amongst the tables.

“Sir, m’am, right this way,” the host appeared, leading them to a table near the back.

The Doctor put an arm around Rose’s waist, which was quite necessary with the way her attention was grasped by the many murals on the walls depicting the Italian landscape. Once they were seated, he asked what they had for dessert and wasn’t sure she heard a word of it, eyes now glued to the nearby waterfall.

“This place is amazing!” she exclaimed, finally snapping out of it.

Their host didn’t seem surprised, and repeated the desserts before leaving them to think it over for a moment before their actual waiter would arrive.

“It looks great now, in 1926, so how realistic does it look in my time?” Rose asked, once they were alone.

“It’s gone by your time. Instead they’ve got a big office building. Fell into disrepair, closed down in the ‘60s.”

“But that’s not fair! We’ve barely seen any of this place, but everything so far has been so beautiful. Why wouldn’t they preserve it?”

“Can’t save everything. You move on. Make way for new buildings. Though, honestly, could’ve done with something grander than an office park to take its place. You humans and your offices.” The Doctor shook his head.

“Well, at least we’re here now.” 

Yes. Yes they were.

Their waiter arrived shortly after that and they put in dessert orders. While they waited for their food, Rose admired the ceiling - complete with electric moon - and asked him questions about all the plants. He ended up drawing the attention of a nearby patron who happened to be a botanist and they had a spirited debate about orange varieties. Which turned out to be very hard to get out of once he remembered that this wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing _this_ evening. Luckily, Rose didn’t seem to mind.

Their dessert and tea arrived pretty quickly after that. She had gotten the blueberry cobbler, and laughed as he ate his two orders of neapolitan ice cream (but wouldn’t let him tell her the history of it until he’d finished, because _apparently_ it was rude to talk with his mouth full, nevermind that he’d been to hundreds of planets where it would be rude _not_ to talk with your mouth full).

Things were getting right back on track until Rose said, “Oh blimey, I just realized that I never finished clearing off my bed.”

The words had come from seemingly out of nowhere, and he didn’t know what train of thought had led to it but, for some reason, right after hearing them the Doctor dropped his spoon and ended up having to crawl practically under the table to pick it up.

He wanted her to stop bringing up the cleaning.

He wanted her to be thinking about right now, and how much fun they were having.

He wanted his respiratory bypass to stop engaging every time she brought it up, but that didn’t seem to be about to happen anytime soon. At least, not until he knew with 100% certainty that she wasn’t going to leave.

The Doctor sat back down, tossed his spoon on the table, decidedly no longer in the mood for ice cream.

“Ready for more dancing?” he asked, doing his best to look happy and eager and like nothing was wrong.

Rose didn’t look like she bought it, but thankfully she humored him and didn’t ask any questions. So he stood up, took her hand, and swiftly exited the restaurant.

“Don’t you have to pay?” she asked, nearly tripping for a moment as she adjusted to his pace.

“Nope. Called in a favor with me mate, Willy. All inclusive stay,” he explained, only half paying attention as he tried to remember the exact layout of the place. There were three different ballrooms, and he wanted the one that had a jazz band playing. Which one, which one, which one …

“Willy? And wait, does that mean we have _rooms_ here?”

“Yup. Nice enough bloke. Owns the place. Technically, we have a suite.” And he finally remembered where to go, turning around quickly to double back to the lifts.

“Oh. Well, guess it doesn’t matter that my bed’s still a mess.”

The Doctor cringed, grateful to be facing away from her as they waited for the lift - for once he didn’t feel frustrated by how primitive and slow they were in this time period. Who would have thought?

They were silent as they rode the lift up to the ninth floor. It took him longer than it should have to realize he was frowning. 

“So,” Rose eventually said, and thank _Rassilon_ she was the one to break the quiet tension because he certainly hadn’t been able to think of how to do it, “what did you do to get the owner of this place to owe ya one?”

“Ahh … well, I can’t say, actually.”

She turned to face him properly, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed. The lift crawled from floor five to floor six before she finished her assessment. “Does this have something to do with that secret poker game?”

The Doctor mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key, unable to stop himself from smiling near the end. Rose burst out laughing and with it everything was okay again (at least, for now). 

“Alright, alright, don’t tell me. But what exactly is all included in an ‘all inclusive stay’? We should probably live it up, yeah? Posh New York socialites, us.” She nudged his elbow, giving him a tongue in teeth grin.

“Oh, plenty. Any service the hotel has to offer. I think there’s supposed to be a list somewhere.”

“Probably in our room.”

“ _Suite_ , Rose Tyler. It’s a suite. A State Suite. Lots of rooms.”

The lift finally stopped at the top floor and the Doctor offered her his arm, which she took with a bounce to her step as he led her to the ballroom. They could hear the jazz playing before they reached the door - very good, because if he’d gotten it wrong they would have had to take the lift all the way back to the main floor.

Once they entered the room, Rose let go of him as she took in the elaborate, ornate Rococo-style architecture. He took a cursory glance before snagging two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.

“You weren’t kidding about all the different rooms,” she said, after a few moments.

“Nope,” he agreed, handing her a drink. “We could explore them all later, if you want. Though some of them are men’s only or women’s only. May have to do some sneaking.”

“What?!” she sniggered before taking a sip.

“We’ve barely made it out of the Victorian age.”

Rose rolled her eyes and looked around the room again, this time at the people. It certainly didn’t _look_ like they were socially strict, he’d give her that.

“Let’s dance,” she said, sitting down her half finished champagne and grabbing his hand. The Doctor grinned and followed her lead. They were in the middle of another upbeat song, but he found that it no longer mattered. He was just happy to be dancing with Rose.

Eventually, though, the band began to play a slow number and the Doctor pulled her close as the tempo changed. It was perfect, really. Like a very long, swaying hug and he did love hugging. Especially hugging Rose. He could feel her single heart beating, so close to his own hearts. She rested her head against his shoulder.

“You know,” she whispered after a little while, “you don’t have to be so scared. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He was surprised, even as he realized that he shouldn’t be. Of course Rose knew. She always knew. Rose Tyler knows him better than anyone, after all. Even as his surprise gave way to embarrassment, the Doctor held her tighter.

“I know,” he told her, and it was the truth but also a lie. Because he trusted her. He trusted that she didn’t _plan_ on going anywhere. That she didn’t _plan_ on leaving. But just because she wasn’t planning on leaving him, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Eventually.

Someway, somehow, everyone left. It was all a matter of time.

And he was a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords. But there was nothing he could do about _this_. Never anything he could do about this.

It _terrified_ him.

Her grip on him tightened as well, even as she pulled her head back to look into his eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“It- it’s not … I can’t explain it any better now than I could before,” he sighed, frustrated with himself. None of his earlier planning had involved having _this_ conversation.

Most of what the Doctor knew about human courtship, _dating_ , he’d learned from films and television (a large portion of which he had watched with Rose in the media room, winding down after harrowing escapes and near-death adventures). Most of what he’d learned over 900 years had been subsequently deemed unimportant, and so forgotten. So he worked with what he had, and even if it turned out to be cheesy he figured that Rose would at least appreciate the effort. But he was pretty sure that this _wasn’t_ romantic, and in his original plan for slow dancing there had been kissing involved.

Then again, nothing about this evening seemed to be going _exactly_ to plan (despite some bits coming close), so why would this be any different?

“Before?”

He swallowed audibly. “You can spend the rest of your life with me, but …”

He couldn’t finish.

In a corner of his mind that he always tried so hard to ignore if he could, timelines flashed and echoed around him. And he could never see his own. So he could rarely glimpse hers. The Doctor shut his eyes, willing himself to calm down, to refocus. To be here, now.

“But you can’t spend the rest of yours with me,” Rose finished for him.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

And the room was suddenly _suffocating_. There were too many humans, too much going on, and this part of the plan was a bust anyway so he did what he’d been doing all night - moving on to the next thing as soon as he lost control of the situation.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” the Doctor said, grabbing her hand and only just remembering that they shouldn’t exactly _run_ out of the room (he compromised the urge with a very fast walk).

“Where are we goin’ now?” she asked, as he took her down a few corridors, pace increasing as he went until he finally found a staircase.

“You’ll see!”

They both bounded up the stairs, and the Doctor didn’t - _wouldn’t_ \- let go of her hand, even as he opened the door at the top and pulled her through.

“Oh wow!”

The roof garden sprawled in front of them, seemingly unending. At this hour it was much less populated than it would be if they had come up in the middle of the day. Despite there being no one else in sight the Doctor, with his superior senses, could tell that there were a few people around (but easily avoided given the garden’s size).

“Takes up the entirety of the hotel block,” he said absently, letting Rose take a turn leading the way as she looked around.

“Bet you could see the whole city from up here.”

“You can.”

They wandered around for a few minutes, silent but not uncomfortably so. The Doctor tried to regroup, to think, figure out exactly where everything had been going wrong with _the plan_. So at first he didn’t notice that Rose had stopped moving, continuing on until he met the resistance of her hand pulling him back. When he looked around, becoming aware of his environment again, they were standing in front of a dimly lit bench underneath a trellis. 

“Let’s sit,” she suggested, before letting go of his hand and doing just that.

So he took a seat next to her, and she leaned into him before looking up at the night sky. The stars were much more visible than they would be in the New York of her time, but still hard to see - more due to the smog than the light pollution. Normally he would tell her this. But that wasn’t what he wanted to be saying.

It wasn’t _important_.

His eyes left the sky, and instead focused on her. Rose Tyler.

“You know,” he found himself saying, “I’d love it. You, and me, in the TARDIS for the rest of your life. Traveling around the Universe.”

But he didn’t say what he’d been _trying_ to say. What he’d spent the _entire evening_ trying to say. The words always getting stuck in his throat, even as they undercut his every thought when he’d look at her smile, hear her laughing, subject himself to her playful teasing, watch her take in each new aspect of her planet’s history with wide eyed wonder.

“Me too,” she told him with a soft smile, turning to meet his eyes.

He kissed her.

Because it punctuated a promise. Because he’d wanted to kiss her all night. Actually, because he rarely _didn’t_ want to kiss Rose Tyler, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself. And if he were to really be honest with himself, he often wanted to do much more than just kiss Rose Tyler, but all of that could wait.

The important thing was that she kissed him back. 

She kissed him back, and for a moment all of his racing thoughts finally slowed to a halt. No distracting timelines, no pervasive memories of days long past, no needless-until-they-might-be-needed calculations running in the background. Just Rose. But not _just_ Rose, because she could never be _just_ anything. So really, it was more like _everything_ Rose.

She was _everything_.

The Doctor deepened the kiss, his hands slowly making their way from her shoulders to her waist as he traced her bottom lip - so soft - with his tongue. She sighed, and it was like a breath of life. Their tongues met and he pulled her closer, practically into his lap, but it wasn’t close enough. Her hands moved from his back, lightly tracing his shoulders and his neck, before tangling into his hair. It was wonderful.

But then she gently tugged it, while nipping his lower lip, and the combined sensations sent a pulse of intense arousal directly to his groin. With a groan, he shifted them both so that Rose lay on the bench with him half on top of her, all while continuing to snog her. Because he definitely did not want to stop snogging, but what he _needed_ was to keep himself from rutting against her like an ape.

(He briefly wondered if whoever had written the textbooks at the Academy, the ones saying that Time Lords were beyond such physical desires, had actually done the proper research).

Things grew more and more heated, tiny gasps and breathless cries filling the air around them. The Doctor filed all of it away, wanting to preserve it all with perfect clarity, wanting to remember what she liked. As they continued snogging, it took more and more effort for him to keep his lower half under some semblance of control, for him to make sure that he didn’t clutch her _too_ tightly. Then one of her hands wandered down his spine, sending pleasant tingles in its wake as his nerves lit on fire with every one of her touches, even through all of his layers. Just as Rose reached his bum - and _oh_ , he’d never given enough thought to what it would be like for her to touch _him_ there instead of the other way around, and that was just an error in judgement on his part - he could hear voices in the distance.

He broke the kiss with a gasp, and they both took a few deep breaths as the sound of footsteps became audible.

“I think we should probably get to somewhere more private,” Rose suggested, still sounding delightfully breathless.

“Right, right, excellent plan,” he nodded enthusiastically, before once again grabbing her hand, helping her off of the bench and then tugging her closer in order to whisper into her ear. “Run!”

And they did, chuckling all the way to the nearest staircase, only slowing when they reached the lifts. Their room was only a floor away, but the Doctor still sonicked the lift anyway, careful (this time) to not make the increased speed a permanent change.

He believed that they must have made it to their suite in record time, even with his first try being wrong. He probably should have used the hotel key he had been given, as opposed to the sonic … and if he used the key to open their proper door, weeeeell … it was the whole hotel experience, wasn’t it?

That being said, he had been pretty sure that the mood had already been ruined when he swung open the doors, gesturing for Rose to go in ahead of him. But as soon as he followed her inside, her lips were on his. Taken by surprise, he backed up a few paces. Conveniently, this caused his shoulders to do the door closing for him. He was torn as to whether him now being trapped against said doors was also convenient, or less so. Her tongue passed over his lips, finding his and her body molded against him as she reached her arms up to wrap around his neck, and the Doctor decided that Rose Tyler could snog him against any surface she pleased.

After pulling her even closer, the Doctor anchored her against him with a hand on her lower back before letting the other wander down to her bum. Rose’s hands weren’t idle either, one traveling up to his hair again, while the other slid down his chest and then back up before grabbing his tie. Several fantasies he’d had over the past few months involving said tie played in his mind on fast-forward before he gasped and pulled his head back, the motion cut short by the clothing item in question. She didn’t seem aware of his predicament, however, taking a few deep breaths herself before kissing down his neck.

They were going a bit fast, weren’t they?

Or had they previously just been going at a glacial pace?

It was hard to tell, and he tried to remember how this kind of thing had gone on before, hundreds of years and two bodies ago. It had all been very spur of the moment. On a whim. And the memories were fuzzy. This was different. This was _Rose_. 

Why had he thought that there would be _anything_ he could compare it to?

And oh, she began to unbutton his collar. That was- that was good. Except he wanted to be kissing her and couldn’t. Except he didn’t want her to stop what she was doing to his neck, either. So he settled for letting his hands explore her body, up her back, over her sides, until his palms reached her breasts even as his fingers still traced her ribs and Rose arched into him and oh- when had he lost control of that particular part of his biology? 

She did it again, and he decided he didn’t care to know. Control wasn’t exactly the point right now, after all. Her hand slipped into his shirt- blimey, when had she gotten it all unbuttoned? He tentatively moved his hands, thumbs rolling over her quickly hardening nipples. Rose moaned before nipping at his collarbone and moving to fist his coat, jacket, and shirt in both hands before trying to push them all down his arms in one go. Actually, it almost worked. Would have worked, if she had remembered the cuffs. 

Coatless, jacketless, the Doctor’s arms mildly restrained behind his back by his own shirt, they both broke away from each other, panting for breath.

“Sorry,” she giggled, still a little breathless. “Didn’t mean to jump ya like that.”

“No, no, it’s- no complaints,” he quickly responded, awkwardly undoing his shirt cuffs behind his back. Thankfully the Doctor was quite dexterous, and made quick work of it. Then he found himself shirtless in front of Rose Tyler, standing in the parlour of a lavish Louis XIV styled suite. Oh, he desperately hoped that this did not somehow bring up France and a 51st century spaceship. He belatedly realized that he still had his tie on and went to take it off.

“Wait,” Rose said, as his hands reached the knot. “Let me.”

She didn’t take it off immediately, however. Instead, she started walking backwards, slowly pulling him through the room and blindly opening a door. It did lead to a bedroom, but he wasn’t sure which one. He knew there was something called a ‘master bedroom’, but didn’t remember how to tell them apart. Rose took off his tie once she had him sitting at the foot of the bed. Her fingers trailed down his bare chest, and he shivered. 

“Is this too fast?” she whispered into his ear, echoing his earlier thoughts.

“Is it?” the Doctor asked, because he still didn’t know.

“Do you want me to stop?” One of her hands had reached the button on his trousers, hovering over his erection but not yet touching.

He reached out, fingers finding the hem of her dress. “Please don’t.”

Rose barely had time to undo the button before he stood, tugging the dress over her head. He only had a moment to take her in, bared to him in just her bra and knickers, but he made sure to stamp it into his mind forever. 

Then their lips found each other, and he wrapped his arms around her, wanting her close, closer, closer. She moved a hand in between their bodies, cupping him through his trousers before slowly pulling down his zip. He tried not to thrust, not to hinder her progress, but he couldn’t help himself. It was all much better than what his mind had ever been able to come up with, alone on the TARDIS while she slept. So much better.

He undid the clasp of her bra, spinning them around as he did, only letting her go so that he could remove it and tug his trousers down. It wasn’t quite as smooth as he’d thought it would be, the Doctor realized, when it became apparent that his trainers were in the way. Rose didn’t seem to mind as he awkwardly kicked off his shoes and socks, making her way to the centre of the bed.

She was _gorgeous_.

He had thought she looked like a goddess before, but maybe he’d been wrong. Or maybe she would just always become more and more radiant. Always a goddess. 

Once he freed himself of his clothes, only his pants still on, the Doctor practically dove onto the bed, pulling her to him in a messy, inelegant kiss. Rose responded immediately, fingers digging into his hair and hips undulating against him. He let his hands wander, wanting to touch every inch of her. When one found her breast, he squeezed lightly and her answering moan poured through him. So he began to knead it more purposefully, thumb moving in circles around her nipple as he swallowed her tiny gasps of pleasure.

His lips left hers, because he needed to _taste_ every inch of her as well. Because he needed to hear her. The Doctor left a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses along her neck, stopping at the juncture between it and her shoulder to bite down when she rolled her hips _just so_ , causing their centres to align. He laved the area with his tongue before moving downwards, replacing the fingers that had been tweaking her nipple with his tongue before covering it with his lips and sucking. 

The noises she made, gasps and whimpers and every so often a breathless cry of his name, spurred him on, a hand moving to pay attention to her other breast in the hopes of increasing all of her delightful sounds of pleasure (it did). He switched sides, humming as he did, savoring each moment. She tasted _incredible_ , and he was quite sure that he would never tire of hearing each little noise she made and knowing that he was the one causing them.

“ _Doctor_ ,” she panted, “ _please_.”

“Hmm?” he questioned absently, distracted as her nails scraped against his back.

“ _Touch me_.” And it wasn’t a request, he could tell by the way her fists clenched, nails digging into his skin in a way he found surprisingly arousing (and how, exactly, was it possible for him to get _more_ aroused?). 

So he traced a hand down her side, dipping his fingers under her knickers, and she was _so wet_. He groaned, releasing her breast with a wet pop, grinding his cock into the mattress because he _needed_ the friction - before stopping himself _because_ if he wasn’t careful, he would end up going off in his pants like an adolescent. He dipped into her folds, slowly exploring, finding her clit but skirting around it for now as he kissed her again, didn’t know how he’d stopped kissing her to begin with.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her, when her lips left his and she nearly screamed as he rubbed her clit with his thumb. 

And he’d meant to take her knickers off properly, truly he had. But he hadn’t put the necessary effort in, and ended up just ripping them off. Rose had somehow managed to laugh and moan at the same time, carding her fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck as she did. 

(Was it not impressive enough that he could manage three physical tasks at the same time? It didn’t matter. The sound already made his list of top things to listen to. The list was mostly Rose Tyler, even with the entire history of music at his disposal.)

He shifted, moving to lie directly in between her legs.

“No, really,” he murmured into her neck, now just wanting to _talk_ because he wanted her to know, _needed_ her to know everything he was thinking, feeling, all of it. He wished he could be inside her mind, be _completely_ connected. 

But that was probably a third date thing - or was that just films? He couldn’t remember.

“What?” Rose asked, the word coming out a bit dazed and breathless.

“You are _amazing_ ,” he told her, leaving a trail of kisses down her body as he did, “and I really don’t think I tell you enough.” 

The Doctor punctuated this statement with a swirl of his tongue over her belly button.

“S-so are- you,” she breathed out the words in between high pitched cries as he replaced his fingers with his tongue.

“You even _taste_ amazing,” he moaned, licking up her slit as he slid a finger inside her. _So, so wet_. He sighed against her clit, clutching her leg for a moment before moving that hand down to cup himself when her fingers brushed through his hair.

He _did_ have superior biology, really - it’s just, all of his brain’s immense processing power was currently focused on various Rose-related tasks. 

(Not that he actually had a refractory period to worry about. Still, probably best to do this as human as could. Alien stuff in general was probably a third date thing - though now he was pretty sure that that was only a television thing.)

“ _Ugh, yes_ ,” Rose cried as he easily added another finger.

And then he _needed_ her to come. _Needed_ to watch her fall over the edge. _Needed_ to give her complete bliss.

“Oh _, god_ , yes- yes- yes,” she mewled.

Apparently he had said all of that aloud, tongue tracing the words onto her as he began to pump his fingers faster, twisting them around, eventually finding a spot that had her keening. The Doctor placed a hand gently at her hip when she began to move beneath him. Of course, he wasn’t much better, having given up on controlling himself and humping the bed in time with his fingers. He did have her suitably distracted at the moment, so who’s to say she would even notice? Her eyes were closed, hands fisted in his hair, nearly but not quite pulling - and the Doctor was quite glad she liked his hair so much, because it was starting to seem like it might be one of this body’s erogenous zones.

He hummed his own pleasure onto her clit as he flicked it with his tongue, and then she spasmed around his fingers. And he watched Rose throw her head back, her cry so loud that it was almost a scream as she came. He slowed down to repeated cries of his own name as she rode out the orgasm, shuddering and groaning through his own. 

When the Doctor finally moved away, their bodies had gone slack. They both breathed heavily as he sat up, quickly removing his pants (and discretely cleaning himself off as he did) before crawling back up her body.

“That was _brilliant_ ,” he sighed, propping himself up on his elbows, wondering how long she would need to recuperate because he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep himself from touching her. He contented himself by nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

Rose giggled. “Well, someone’s awful proud of themselves.” Her teasing was counterpointed by how marvelously well-shagged she sounded.

“Was that rude?” the Doctor asked, not-so-content with just the nuzzling and beginning to lick his way up her neck and behind her ear.

He hadn’t been expecting it when Rose flipped them both over and straddled him. 

“Nah,” she smiled, giving him a quick kiss before pulling back, “it _was_ brilliant. Now it’s my turn.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he gasped as Rose lowered her head and began sucking on his neck, their bodies entwined in such a way that his member slipped through her folds, “I- I didn’t know we were taking turns.”

Her hands trailed down his arms and he laced their fingers together on instinct as she shifted, continuing to torment him with slow, deliberate friction that was equal parts spectacular and not-nearly-enough. 

“Mmmhmm.”

She squeezed his hands before letting go, her fingers moving to his sides and trailing upwards as her mouth wandered down and the Doctor wondered if she had left marks (he didn’t mind if she did, in fact, he quite liked the idea). 

He didn’t know what to do with his own hands now, what the apparent ‘rules’ might be if they were ‘taking turns’. After fisting the bedding for a moment, he decided to run them through her hair - it had been quite excellent when she did it to him. The Doctor moaned and thrust his hips slightly as Rose’s thumbs rolled over his nipples and she nipped at his collar bone. And he’d lost track of his hands for a moment, so he wasn’t expecting it when his fingers accidentally grazed her temples and a white hot burst of _Rose_ and _pleasure_ and _desire_ and _Love_ crashed into his mind. 

They both flinched, pulling apart as if they’d been burned.

“What was that?!” Rose asked, panting, seemingly unaware of her lower body still on top of his doing magnificently frustrating things with every tiny, unintentional movement.

“Sorry, sorry, so sorry,” the Doctor gasped out, clenching his traitorous hands into fists. “Accident. Touch telepath, remember? Just, er … not keeping enough track of, erm-”

She interrupted his rambling with a kiss, which quickly turned into a snog, and he almost forgot what he’d been saying until she pulled back, breathily saying, “Superior biology not living up to the name?”

“ _Ghh_ ,” he clutched Rose’s waist as she rolled her hips, “n-not exactly.”

She lifted her hips slightly, snuck a hand between them, took him into her grip and slowly moved her fist up and down his shaft. Then she leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Do you think you could do it again?”

And his brain may have short circuited for a moment. Just a moment.

“What?”

Her tongue traced the shell of his ear.

“Felt good,” Rose murmured, pumping him faster. “We’d both be feeling each other, yeah?”

How, exactly, did she expect him to follow the conversation if she distracted him the whole time?

“I- I could make a te- temporary connection,” the Doctor said, his hands caressing a line up her back as she trailed a line of kisses from his sternum to his pelvic bone. “Are you sure?”

So much for waiting on bringing anything alien (to her) into the bedroom.

She may have answered him, in fact he was pretty sure that she had, but he really couldn’t recall what she had said. Because right afterwards, her lips covered the head of his penis, tongue swirling around briefly before she took him entirely into her mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, nearly bucking into her mouth and barely catching himself in time. His hands moved back to clenching the duvet for dear life as Rose bobbed and sucked and did things with her tongue that had him whimpering. Why hadn’t he expected this when she’d said it was ‘her turn’? 

And then she stopped.

The Doctor opened his eyes - when had he shut them? - and looked down at her, confused.

“Well?” she asked, giving him a pointed look that he didn’t understand the meaning behind.

“What?”

“I said, ‘is there anything I should know about?’”

And he’d lost track of what they’d been saying before, and he just wanted her to continue the _marvelous_ things she’d been doing, so he said, “I don’t have a refractory period. Binary vascular system. Superior blood flow.”

Because that must have been what she was asking, right? Because if he were a human bloke, that would have been when she’d need to stop, right? 

Judging by her smirk, he’d gotten it wrong. But she followed that up by running her tongue up his shaft, so he couldn’t have gotten it _terribly_ wrong.

“Very good to know,” she told him, eyes locked onto his as she hovered over him, “but we were talking about telepathy.”

And it was _maddening_ , that she expected him to think about telepathy as she started up again, this time moving her hand in counterpoint to her mouth. 

“ _Rose_ ,” he panted, and she moved faster, increasing the suction, and it was _phenomenal_ \- _she_ was phenomenal. One of his hands found its way into her hair, and he tried not to pull it. The Doctor was dimly aware that he was speaking, but he wasn’t sure that it was English anymore, aside from her name.

She took his hand, and for a moment he thought that he had tugged too hard, somehow hurt her, but then she just moved it, hovering over her temple. 

_Oh, right_. Rose Tyler had the best ideas.

And it barely took any effort for him to make the connection - something that would have struck him as strange, if his mind hadn’t been focused elsewhere - then everything both blurred and sharpened at the same time. He could feel her, sense her thoughts floating at the edge of his being, feel her pleasure at giving him pleasure, and the feedback loop that began to form as she could feel exactly what she was doing to him. 

Rose moaned onto his cock as she sucked harder, the vibrations causing even more pleasure and the Doctor found himself begging, but he didn’t know what for. He’d never been telepathically connected during sex before, knew that she hadn’t, and it was _much_ more intense than he could have ever predicted. He could feel it, his orgasm right around the corner, and he could tell that she knew, that she was close now as well, and he managed to open his eyes again to see hers locked onto him.

 _I want to watch you lose control_.

She didn’t say it aloud, but into his mind, and he didn’t think that she’d be able to do that, not that he’d given it much consideration to begin with. But the shared thought sent him over the edge. 

His vision whited out for a moment.

He was pretty sure his respiratory bypass engaged.

He was pretty sure he’d never felt so good in his life. In _all_ of his lives.

“That was _fantastic_ ,” the Doctor found himself saying, once he’d come down a little from the high, trying his best to ignore how his voice had taken a slightly Northern accent.

“Mmm,” was all Rose managed in reply - and how had he missed that she was now lying on top of him? When had that happened?

Deciding not to question it, he wrapped his arms around her.

“You are really, _really_ good at that,” he praised, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

Rose let out a breathy giggle before pushing herself up. “Pretty sure the telepathy had something to do with it.”

“Maybe. A little. Still, all you,” the Doctor countered before sighing. “Blimey, that was only a surface connection.”

“What’s the difference?” she asked, running her hands up his sideburns and purposefully grazing his temples.

Waves of post-orgasmic bliss brushed at the edges of his mind, tangled up in the bright yellow essence that was _Rose_. Really, he could get used to feeling her like this. Would _love_ to get used to it. Her mind was brilliant and warm and absolutely amazing against his, addicting almost, and oh did he want them to be properly connected.

“Oh, you really weren’t kidding earlier.”

She interrupted his thought process with a purposeful move against his very-much-still-there erection.

“Nope,” he agreed before pulling her back down for a kiss. It had been entirely too long since he’d snogged her, very much an egregious error on his part. “But we can stop if you’re tired.”

He was sure that he’d eventually be able to focus on redirecting the blood flow.

“Mmm, think ‘m gettin’ a second wind,” she informed him, and that was all the warning that he got before she leveraged herself back up with a hand on his chest while the other positioned him at her entrance and she slowly slid down.

It really was so much better than he had _ever_ imagined it being, and he’d imagined it much more often than he was willing to admit.

“ _Rose_ ,” he breathed as she paused on top of him.

She made a lovely cooing noise in the back of her throat before she began to move.

“You feel so good,” he told her, gripping her hips and meeting her thrusts, and quickly realizing that he couldn’t _stop_ talking. “You’re so _hot_ , and _tight_ , and _wet_. I meant it, earlier, you’re so amazing, and gorgeous and I don’t just mean right now, I mean _all the time_. And I don’t just mean your face or your body, I mean _you_. Rose. I love you, so, so much.”

The Doctor pushed himself up, pulling her closer and kissing her hard.

Their pace increased and he moved his lips down her neck, loving it as she panted into his ear.

“D- _Doctor_ ,” she crowed, as he took one of her nipples into his mouth. “ _God_ , I love you too. I love you s- _so much_.” 

He let go of her breast with a gasp, having not even realized that he’d _said it_. Sure, he’d been trying to say the words all night, but this certainly _wasn’t the time_ . Still, he couldn’t dwell on the embarrassment for too long, because _she’d said it back_. And he knew that humans had a tendency to say things like that without meaning them while in the throws of passion, but he’d _felt it_ earlier, when they were connected. She must have felt it too, had to have. 

With renewed vigor, he tilted his head, sucking her other nipple into his mouth and groaning as her walls tightened around him. His fingers dug into her sides as he quickened the pace, savoring each cry of pleasure that fell from her lips.

Their hands migrated to each other's temples at the same time, almost as if they already knew what the other was thinking, and the Doctor found himself plunging into her mind.

Everything was _Rose Tyler_ and it was _the best thing he’d ever experienced_. 

He could feel her in his own head, all around him, everywhere drenched in pink and yellow and gold. Their mutual pleasure built exponentially, the feedback loop from before even more powerful now than it had been earlier. Even as their orgasm burst, he still _didn’t want this to end_.

How could he?

He wanted to be with her always, forever. He wanted to _live_ in this moment.

The Doctor was only vaguely aware of their physical bodies, of him pushing her back, their heads at the foot of the bed.

He had been right before, when he thought it would be addictive, being in her head. Having her in his. It had been so lonely, before. And everything became _bright_ and _warm_ and _perfect_. She was perfect. Not in the unattainable human way, but in a way that was just _her_ and _them_ and how could he _ever_ live without her? How could he _ever_ let her go?

Flashes of awareness, of Rose gripping him tighter, of him moving one of her legs over his shoulder. A thought about how flexible she was, fleeting through their shared headspace.

He loved her _so much_ and hadn’t been able to believe that she could ever possibly reciprocate in the same way, but here they were and he could _feel it_. 

Pleasure building, building, and he knew that he was pounding into her. And he could hear her, if he focused, cries of “ _yes_ ” and “ _Doctor_ ” and other more inarticulate sounds. And he could hear himself, too, saying, “ _Rose_ ” and “ _please_ ” and “ _stay_ ” and “ _mine_ ”. But it was all background as he basked in her love and kindness, her compassion and everything that made her _Rose_. 

And he was amazed by how good he _knew_ Rose felt, being in his mind. That she could see him, _all_ of him, and still _want_ him.

_I’m never going to leave you._

Her voice echoed in every corner of his mind and then everything exploded like a supernova.

Timelines cascaded around him, spinning all over the place, and he couldn’t tell what was happening, everything was too much and not enough and then-

Nothing.

He couldn’t tell for how long.

(Shouldn’t he be able to tell?)

All the Doctor knew, when he opened his eyes again, was that everything was _great_. He could hear Rose breathing next to him and turned his head to look at her. She stared dazedly at the ceiling, covered in a light sheen of sweat, hair a complete mess. And she’d never looked more beautiful, he was absolutely sure of it.

“You’re such a sap,” she smiled, rolling over to cuddle into him.

And it seemed strange, because he was pretty certain he hadn’t said that out loud, but he’d been wrong before.

“I’m just kiddin’,” she continued, “and you’re looking quite good yourself.”

 _Very well-shagged_. 

Her lips hadn’t moved, the Doctor was positive this time. He closed his eyes and- _oh_! It definitely wasn’t as strong as it had been before, but she was still there in his head. Digging deeper, he realized that _he_ was still ever so slightly _in hers_. 

He tried to discreetly slip out, but found he couldn’t.

“Rose?” he asked, leaving her arms as he sat up, thinking that maybe the connection would break once they stopped touching.

“What is it?” Her brow furrowed and she reached towards him. He felt a pang of hurt as he avoided her grasp. And it wasn’t _his_ hurt, but it might as well have been.

_No, just one second, just, just a tick. I just need to test something._

“Test what?”

“You heard that?!” The Doctor’s mouth dropped open and he checked and yup! Still there.

_That- that’s not possible. That’s g- there’s g-_

Rose burst out laughing.

 _Oh my god, we finally shagged and then something weird and alien happened, why am I_ not even _surprised, what did we even_ do _?!_

She could hear _his_ thoughts, but he could also hear _hers_.

“It’s not funny!” he complained.

There was a pause and Rose sat up (trying to look contrite, even as she did the telepathic equivalent of an eye roll - the cheek on her!) and he took a moment to replay what she had said- thought- whatever.

“ _Finally_ shagged?” the Doctor repeated, smirking at her and raising a suggestive eyebrow.

“Oh please,” she swatted his arm, “I think we’ve got other things to focus on at the mo’ without you fishin’ for compliments. Did we get stuck in each other's heads somehow?” _And of course it’s funny_.

“I’m … I’m not _sure_ ,” he admitted, trying to think.

“Blimey! You’re gonna give me a headache!” Rose complained, placing her palms over her temples.

“Sorry! So sorry!” _I’m an absolute idiot_.

He threw up his barriers, and _when had they all fallen down to begin with_? That was _not_ supposed to happen.

“It’s okay, you’re not an idiot. ‘S fine now, anyway.”

The Doctor tried to ignore all of the reasons that this was _not_ fine, and instead got up off the bed. 

“Give us a tick,” he said, opening the door to the ensuite - _that! That’s what made it a master bedroom, knew I’d remember at some point_.

“When did you not know?” Rose asked, scooting to the edge of the bed.

_How can she still hear me? My barriers are up!_

He quickly found a washcloth and ran it under the tap, barely taking the time to squeeze it out before walking back into the bedroom.

“I think I figured it out,” the Doctor told her as he reached the bed and began to run the damp cloth over her. “I- I mean, _we_ may have gotten a little too carried away. Moved a bit faster than we meant to … though, in my defense, you are much more telepathic than you should be and I have some ideas about that, too.”

“One thing at a time,” she said, taking the washcloth from his hand in order to return the favor. 

And he may be freaking out, just a little, but the vast majority of him was just _calm_ and _content_ and _safe_ and _with Rose_. 

She smiled up at him, and right, so maybe he did _project_ a lot more than he ever thought he had in the past, when she _couldn’t_ receive the thoughts, but maybe he _wanted_ to constantly share them with her. He did try to most of the time, anyway, babbling endlessly at her whether he meant to or not.

“Right!” the Doctor finally managed. “Carried away. I _may_ have unintentionally taken my barriers down, wanting to feel closer to you. And you barely have any barriers to begin with - suspicious that you have any, come to think of it. Anyway, when we … erm …” _So many different words, so many different connotations_.

“Made love,” Rose told him definitively, giving him a kiss as she did.

“Made love,” he agreed, a smile slowly spreading across his face despite how serious a conversation he was trying to have, “there was nothing stopping us from- well, we were really much too distracted with other things to have been expected to practice safe telepathy to begin with, I mean messing about in each others heads while-”

“Nothin’ stopping us from what?” she asked, getting him back on track. 

It was hard for him to properly chastise her for the amusement she broadcasted when it sent such a pleasant tingle of happiness throughout his mind. 

“Nothing stopping us from bonding. Apparently. I mean,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “it’s not like I ever thought about there being a _possibility_ of it. The practice had fallen out well before I was alive. Didn’t even think we could do it anymore - Time Lords, I mean. We were- for so long, my species was sterile, w- I- genetic engineering. Time Lords, Gallifreyans, had to become a genetically engineered race. Reproduce by other means. And we were expected to be so- so emotionless, so detached, I never thought we would still have the _ability_ to create bonds like that. They hadn’t been recorded in any _remotely_ recent texts.”

“Maybe because everyone else was busy being emotionless and detached,” Rose suggested.

“Must be,” the Doctor agreed, pulling her into his arms because if he had to keep panicking, he would rather do it while holding her.

“So what’s it mean?”

“I don’t have all of the details. I’ll have to meditate and do some research. That’ll have to wait for us to get back to the TARDIS. But it means … it’s kind of like … on Ancient Gallifrey, it was the equivalent of marriage. Sharing everything you are with someone. Being truly connected for the rest of your lives.” _And of course it would happen by accident, she wasn’t wrong there. It’s just that it’s not funny, I didn’t_ ask _her, she didn’t_ consent _to any of it and now_ -

“What are you goin’ on about now,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his face so that he could look her in the eye. “ _We_ did it on accident, Doctor. _We_. Takes two, yeah? I didn’t want to leave you just as much as you didn’t want to leave me.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the one who’s _supposed_ to be the experienced telepath.” This time she didn’t just _look_ like she was radiating disapproval. “Fine,” he conceded, “but still.”

He tried to distract himself, stripping the comforter off of the bed before pulling back the sheets.

“It’s permanent,” the Doctor told her when he turned back around, “we can’t undo it.”

“Do you want to?” she asked, eyes hard, but he could feel the hurt she failed to block, that she wouldn’t know _how_ to keep from him.

“No.”

He meant it. Meant it with every fibre of his being, every atom of his existence and that, _that_ was why this had happened by accident in the first place.

“Do you?” he asked her, even knowing what the answer would _have_ to be.

“Never.”

He kissed her.

Because it punctuated another promise. Because he always wanted to kiss her.

This time there wasn’t the same sense of urgency, the same _need_ that had had them rushing every step of the way. He pulled her with him onto the bed, and he managed to get their heads onto pillows without breaking the kiss, even if he couldn’t manage to get the sheets pulled over them. 

At no point was the Doctor planning to stop snogging her, but eventually Rose broke away from him with a yawn.

“Tired?” He looked her over, feeling more than a little smug.

 _Oh, he’s going to be insufferable now, ain’t he?_ “I could use a rest,” she said, wiggling around the way she always did when she tried to get comfortable but also not letting him go. “Stay?”

“No place I’d rather be,” he swore, finally managing to snag the sheets now that his attention wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Rose shut her eyes, grimaced, and then opened them again.

“Suppose I could be persuaded to let you up for a minute. Too many lights on,” she complained. 

“Don’t wanna go,” the Doctor admitted, words muffled as he spoke them into her neck.

 _God, if he wasn’t so adorable right now_ -

“I’m not ‘adorable’,” he muttered, but his heart wasn’t in it. He lifted his head and gave Rose a glare that he immediately knew had no effect - _typical, really_ \- before rolling over her to the other side of the bed and fishing his trousers off the ground.

“Sonic’s not in those pockets,” she told him around another yawn.

 _Oh … right_. “Where’s my jacket?”

“Front room,” Rose snickered. “Might as well turn off the lights like a normal person.”

The Doctor wondered if he had everything he would need in his trousers to create a device to turn out the lights without leaving the bed. He tried to remember what all he had stashed in his trans-dimensional pockets, but couldn’t be sure that some of it hadn’t migrated into his coat or jacket.

“I’ve got it.”

He blinked and Rose was up, walking out of the room. And he _did_ feel bad, but not _too_ bad … the view was quite excellent, after all.

 _Typical bloke_.

“Oi!”

“I wasn’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing,” she snickered sleepily as she walked back into the room with his clothes piled in her arms, turning the lights off as she entered.

“Rose Tyler, I’ll have you know, there’s nothing _typical_ abou-”

She broke off his rant with a kiss as she got back into bed.

“I know,” she assured him, pushing the sonic screwdriver into his hand before lying down and getting comfortable again.

And oh, he loved her so, _so_ much.

“I love you, too,” she mumbled into his chest.

And he _still_ hadn’t said it aloud! At least, not properly.

“Rose Tyler,” he whispered into her ear, wrapping his arms around her and not caring as the sonic fell somewhere on the bed, “I love you. I love you more than I could ever properly tell you, more than words could ever adequately convey.”

“I know,” she told him, lifting her head slightly to give him a sloppy kiss - didn’t even open her eyes. The Doctor could feel her thoughts getting fuzzier, a contented lethargic feeling seeping through their bond. She was about to fall asleep, and it looked as though he might as well, nevermind the fact that he shouldn’t need to for days yet.

He shut his eyes, cuddling her close. Maybe just a quick kip.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was bathed in soft early morning sunlight. His brows furrowed and he frowned - it had been _five and a half hours_. He’d slept _five and a half hours_. The Doctor sat up, feeling a bit drugged. What was wrong with him? 

_Five and a half hours, that’s practically a coma!_

“Shut it.”

He looked down to see Rose lying next to him, head half on his pillow, their legs intertwined. Then he remembered the previous day. Everything from the previous day.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned, rubbing his face.

How, exactly, had he lost such complete control of a situation that a day that started off with a minor misunderstanding - one that made him think she was _leaving him_ , but still - led to him completely disregarding practically all of his rules and them _permanently joining minds_?! What were they supposed to _do_ now?

He had been upset at the thought of her leaving him _before_ her time, upset always at their lifespans being so different that she would inevitably leave him anyway. Now what would happen? They were telepathically connected, parts of their minds residing in the other’s. One day, Rose _would_ leave him, she was _human_ , and then-

“Stop it, just stop it.” His thoughts were interrupted with a smack to the chest and he looked back down to see Rose had opened her eyes, now wet with barely held tears. She clumsily sat up, obviously still tired. “You can’t keep doing this. I- I know it hurts,” she blinked, and a few tears dripped down her cheeks, “a-and I know that if you could do it over, you wouldn’t wanna have lost control like we did, but you can’t keep thinkin’ about how it’s all gonna _end_. ‘S morbid, ‘s what it is. I’m right here, right now.”

“Oh, _Rose_.”

The Doctor wrapped his arms around her and held her close, soothed by her heart beating next to his and the swirl of her slowly awakening thoughts on the outer edges of his mind. After a few moments he backed away just slightly and wiped the tears off of her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry. Really, really sorry. I’m not _trying_ to be a pessimist, I swear. I just- it’s just- I’ve lived for so long. So terribly long. And there are certain truths you learn, certain constants, and-”

“‘M in your head now, Doctor. I understand,” she sniffled, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.

“Then you should know that I _want_ this. I _want_ you there, really. And I’ll get better at not bombarding you with everything. Restructure my barriers.”

“Because you couldn’t possibly just _stop_ overthinkin’ all the time, could ya?” Rose tried to laugh, but it came out forced and watery and he could _feel_ that she was still upset.

So he held her tighter and slowly lowered them both back down onto the pillows. She was still quite knackered, after all. And he wanted to cheer her up, and they _were_ bonded now, so he decided to (for once) use that purposefully. The Doctor tried to project to her just how much he loved her, how much he _needed her_ , how _happy_ he was that she was with him. 

And then her lips attacked his, and she projected _her_ love and _Rassilon_ , how could he _ever_ be upset again if he was allowed to have _this_ for even a moment?

When Rose pulled away for some much needed air, he found himself unable to stop grinning.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked, sitting up and bouncing a little on the bed. “We could explore the hotel, all those different rooms I was telling you about, or we could explore New York! Granted it is _Sunday_ now,” the Doctor scowled, “but I’m sure there must be _something_ going on. Oooh! Or back to the TARDIS, Epcot! Or Mailboon! They’ve got hovercars! Oh! Wait, no, the Rhibelini Festival! We _have_ to go! Rose, it’s amazing, you’ll love it, they have-”

“Hold your horses,” she snickered. “I’m gonna need a cuppa or two first before I can even try to sort through all of that.”

Oh, right. She usually slept much longer than she had. He could tell that she was still tired, and was curious as to how her being sleepy had made _him_ fall asleep, but his being awake and alert didn’t seem to be affecting her.

“‘M up, aren’t I?”

“Right, yes, I suppose so,” the Doctor cringed. “I’ll call room service, get you that cuppa.”

He slid off of the bed and looked around for his pants, but once found he realized that they weren’t exactly wearable. Right.

“Aha oh my god, really?!”

He turned to see Rose chuckling, arms wrapped around his pillow.

“I- I- shush, you. Isn’t it a bit early for cheek?” 

He could feel his face heating up. The Doctor opened up the cupboard, relieved to find complimentary robes. 

“Ohh don’t be embarrassed,” Rose cooed, not the least bit repentant. “‘M flattered. And it’s kind of fair, dontcha think?”

She projected her memory of him ripping her knickers.

She was startlingly good at telepathy.

_Is that a bad thing?_

Startlingly, startlingly good.

“Well … I mean … no? A mo’, tea first. Tea, then, erm, telepathy.”

It took much more focus than he thought it would, ordering room service. But to be fair, he had a lot on his mind. He decided to wait in the sitting room, pacing, trying to figure out how to control his barriers when it came to their bond. It would be easier if he understood it better, and he really _would_ have to meditate. But he didn’t _want_ to. He wanted to explore time and space with Rose, having a laugh and maybe getting into a spot of trouble here and there. And dates, definitely more dates.

Soon enough a staff member arrived with a cart of tea and pastries. Had he been meant to tip them? Well, he wasn’t exactly dressed. There had to be some level of understanding there, right?

When he reentered the bedroom, Rose was sitting up with all of the pillows arranged behind her to form a backrest.

“Y’know,” she said conversationally as he handed her a cup of tea and balanced the tray on the bed, “usually a bloke asks a girl before he takes her on a date.”

“Oh … uhm, is that how it works, then?” he asked, tugging on his ear.

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, can I retroactively ask you?”

He shucked the robe off - really, 20th century Earth clothing materials - _ugh_.

“I suppose,” she giggled into her cup before sitting it down and investigating the food offerings.

“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor began, crawling back onto the bed and destroying her pillow creation so that _he_ could be her backrest, “would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Hmm … and what will this date entail?”

He huffed into her hair. “You know. Date things. Dinner, dancing, stargazing.”

“Shaggin’?”

“ _Minx_ ,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’d love to,” she told him, no longer laughing. She turned a little, giving him a peck on the cheek before feeding him a piece of scone and then going back to her tea.

They were quiet for a bit after that, the Doctor finding that his thoughts appeared to slow down as Rose’s mind seemed to embrace his, filling even the darkest parts of him with a soft golden light. It was so _wonderful_. He held her tighter, nuzzling into the back of her neck, not even minding when her messy hair tangled around him and he got a bit in his mouth.

“‘S nice in your head too, y’know.”

The Doctor scoffed.

“No, really! It’s cool, and strong, and steady, and you feel everything so much but in a good way,” she explained, setting down her cup and pushing the tray toward the end of the bed.

And he believed her, couldn’t _not_ believe her with the sincerity being broadcast straight into him, but it was still a lot to take in. That she saw him that way.

“Now tell me about telepathy,” Rose said, turning in his arms so that they faced each other.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, rubbing her nose with his just because he could.

“Well, everything I guess. You kept thinkin’ stuff about barriers? And projectin’?”

“Mmm … right, whole new subject for you, isn’t it? Well, of course it is. Humans are, generally, psi-null. Telepaths, though, start training at a young age, same way you lot learn to speak and read. Barriers, they protect your thoughts, whether to avoid telepathic attack or just allow yourself a modicum of privacy as part of a telepathic race. And projecting, connecting with others, admittedly a little new for me as well. There was a low-level species wide connection, yes, but as a touch telepath it usually is much more purposeful, connecting with another being. Of course, there are species that are stronger telepaths, no touch necessary, and I can project to them even if I can’t necessarily catch _their_ thoughts. This, though, our bond, it’s … new.”

“So you’ve got stuff to learn, too, then?”

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘P’.

“So it’s not always gonna be like this, though? We’ll figure out how to keep some stuff to ourselves?”

“Got a lot of secrets, do you?” the Doctor joked, nipping at her ear.

“You know what I mean!” Rose laughed, and she was _so happy_ and _in his head_. 

He couldn’t stop himself from catching her lips and snogging her. By the time he let her break away to breathe, they were horizontal and he may have kicked over the tea tray.

“Insatiable, you are.”

“Mmm yes,” he agreed, kissing her shoulder, “and yes, we’ll figure out how to be more purposeful about sharing our thoughts.” 

“Hehe, down boy,” Rose said as he moved to her neck. “Think I’d like a shower.”

“Hmm no point,” the Doctor countered. “Plus, if you recall, _technically_ this is our honeymoon now.”

“One helluva date.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Then her mobile started ringing.

“Don’t answer it,” he groaned, even as she moved out from under him and rummaged around the floor before pulling her phone out of her dress pocket. _It has pockets?!_

“All of my dresses from the TARDIS have pockets. I ask for them,” Rose told him absently. “It’s my mum.” With that, she walked out of the room as she hit the answer button.

Though he didn’t see _why_ . With his superior hearing, it’s not like he didn’t know what they were both saying. And with their bond, he didn’t even need to _hear_ her - not with his ears, anyway.

_SHUSH!_

Ooooh she could _yell_ in his head - good to know. The Doctor winced and tried to do as she’d said, if only to avoid _that_ again.

But then he started paying attention to what was actually being said.

And he was _furious_.

When Rose came back into the room he had his trousers on, now trying to figure out how to get his shirt done up right - apparently he’d missed the fact that Rose had managed to do some tearing of things herself last night and there were quite a few missing buttons. She was angry as well.

“We’ll fix it,” he bit out, finally giving up on his shirt - it didn’t matter, his jacket would cover the undone bits.

“I know. And, uhm, sorry ‘bout your shirt,” she muttered as she began grabbing her own clothes off the floor.

“You can still shower,” he told her, looking up to see her putting on her bra. “We’ve got a time machine. It’s going to be fine, Rose.”

She dropped onto the bed, staring off into the distance. He tried not to listen to all of her thoughts as they churned around unpleasantly, but it was difficult to ignore.

“She’s my mum, Doctor,” she finally said. “She’s my mum, and someone was usin’ her, tryin’ to get to you.”

And this was yet another thing that he always worried about, a fear that he tried to ignore as much as he could. What could happen to those that he cared about if any of his enemies knew enough to use them against him? And it had happened, they’d gone after _Jackie_ , and it could _easily_ be Rose next. It would have been bad, before, but now, now they were _bonded_ , and what _wouldn’t_ he do to protect her? But oh, how they could-

“Doctor!”

He was dimly aware that she had shouted at him more than once, telepathically _and_ verbally. Focusing now, he realized that he was shaking.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered, pulling his jacket out of his clenched fists.

“How?” he asked, because he really wanted to know.

“Just trust me,” she pleaded, and of course he did, of course he trusted her. “It’s us, yeah? We’re always okay.”

“But what if-”

She placed a finger over his lips.

_What if I lose you?_

“Trust me,” Rose repeated, replacing her finger with her lips to give him a tiny, chaste kiss. “You said we’re gonna fix this, and you’re right. We’re gonna.”

He could feel _her_ trust in him, and it was _humbling_. The universe wasn’t kind, and there were no guarantees. But she had taken his hand and ran with him across the stars, had ridden out explosions with him, faced down Daleks. They were the Doctor and Rose Tyler, the Stuff of Legends. And _of course_ he trusted her, believed in her. Believed in her so much that it got him through hell, or at least some version of it.

This time when he kissed her it was desperate, and messy, teeth getting in the way, noses bumping into each other, but she didn’t seem to mind. When he pulled back, the Doctor was panting but at the same time much more calm. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he repeated to himself as Rose put on her dress and walked into the ensuite. He followed, pulling on his jacket as he went.

“Oh my god, my hair is _awful_!” she exclaimed, staring into the mirror. _I can’t go see my mum with bloody sex hair!_

And with everything they’d gone through this morning, _this_ being what upset _her_ had the Doctor guffawing, hand clutching onto the counter to make sure he remained upright.

“‘S not funny!”

“No, no, you’re right, it’s not funny, it’s _hilarious_ ,” the Doctor managed in between laughs. He glanced in the mirror, finding his own hair looked quite dashing post-coitus.

“Oh you are so full of it,” Rose growled, violently pulling open drawers in search of a brush. 

She was upset, and still angry about this Elton bloke, and the Doctor suddenly felt incredibly guilty for laughing. She’d done such an excellent job at comforting him, and he was mucking this all up.

“Here,” he said, taking her hand and gently pulling her away from the counter to sit in his lap on the edge of the tub, “let me help.”

It took a moment, but he found a comb and a bag of small hair ties in his jacket pocket, and he set about braiding Rose’s hair. The action was quite soothing for both of them, and he embraced the feeling, finding that things like this could create a pleasant feedback loop as well. By the time he finished, they both felt much better, more in their right minds (if not still cross, but they had every right to be).

Rose stood up, examining herself in the mirror.

“It’ll do. For now,” she decided before turning on the tap and proceeding to wipe off what was left of her makeup.

“Fine then,” he huffed, going back into the bedroom and putting on his coat before rummaging around the bed until he found the sonic. Wouldn’t want to leave _that_ behind.

“I just meant that my hair’s still dirty, that’s all,” Rose told him, coming up to him and giving him a hug before sliding her hand into his coat pocket and pulling out a small makeup bag. “It looks lovely. You did a good job.”

“When’d you put that in there?”

“When did _you_ learn how to do French braids?” she called out as she disappeared back into the bathroom.

“Oh, ages ago,” the Doctor replied, trailing after her.

“Mmm same,” she mumbled, focusing on applying her eyeliner.

He wondered if she had done something similar back when he wore a leather jacket. Rose sniggered, almost getting mascara in her eyebrow, and a memory of her sliding a different toiletry bag into said jacket played out through their bond.

Once she finished up her eyeshadow, they left the Hotel Astor as quickly as they could. He sonicked the lift so that it moved at quadruple speed, and didn’t bother with checking out. They’d figure it out eventually. There wasn’t a moment’s pause until they were forced to wait for the valet to bring the car ‘round.

“It was a great date, y’know,” Rose told him, taking his hand. “Even if I didn’t know we were on one.”

“Well, I mean, good. That’s good.” _Would it have gone differently, though, if she’d known?_

The valet returned with the car, and the Doctor absently shoved the last of his period appropriate currency into the man’s hands. 

“Uhm, uh, sir-”

He didn’t bother seeing what kind of money fumble he’d made this time, hopping over the door and into the vehicle, barely waiting for Rose to get hers closed before speeding off back to the TARDIS. 

“Actually, I would have probably been really nervous if I knew it was a _date_ date,” she said, picking up where they’d left off. He could feel her mind buzzing against his, plans of retribution for the bloke that had the nerve to use Jackie, and the Doctor marveled at her attempts to distract both of them.

“ _Date_ date?” _I’m pretty sure I was flustered enough for the both of us_.

“Well, we kinda go on dates all the time,” Rose pointed out. “Just not _official_ ones.” _Wow, that explains_ so _much. Knew somethin’ was off_.

“What?! You could tell?!”

She leveled him with _a look_. “Doctor, you _wore a hat_. We’ve got _a car_. You didn’t wander off lookin’ for trouble _once_.”

“I- I don’t wander off! _You_ wander off!”

It really was alarming how unconvinced she was.

“I did have a hat, didn’t I? What happened to that?” He looked around the car, wondering if it would appear somewhere.

“Think it blew off your head somewhere on Broadway last night.”

Huh. Oh well. Such great hair, didn’t need a hat to begin with. Rose snorted as the TARDIS came into view. The Doctor quickly reached into the glove box, pulled out a key fob and got the doors open just in time for them to drive straight in.

He braked hard the moment they passed through the doors, causing Rose to knock into the dashboard decently hard. Oops.

“Alright?” he asked automatically, even though he now knew for certain that she was fine. Oh, this bond would be very helpful in the future, the way their lives went. Depending on the range, that is. They really would need to test the range sooner rather than later.

“M’fine,” Rose interrupted his derailed train of thought as she pushed herself upright and reached for the door handle. Focus reclaimed, the Doctor did a cursory sweep of her with the sonic (just to be thorough).

“Do you have a headache?” he asked, after quickly translating the readings. It didn’t _seem_ like she had a headache. At least, he couldn’t feel it through their bond.

“A little,” she shrugged, stepping out of the car.

“Really?!”

She ignored him.

“I’m gonna change quick, here-” Rose tossed him her mobile and he caught it with barely a thought, now trying to sense this mystery headache telepathically “-you can track down that Elton bloke. I wanna give him a piece of my mind.”

Then she headed towards the main corridor. It took the Doctor a moment longer than he’d like to admit to realize he was still sitting in the car as he went to go after her, which he ended up having to compensate for by jumping over the windshield.

“Wait, wait, Rose!” he called, running up to her. “You need to tell me more about this headache!”

“What? Why?”

She still hadn’t stopped walking, so he jogged in front of her and blocked her way.

“Because,” the Doctor said, resting his hands on her shoulders just to make sure she wouldn’t leave again, “you’re human, and we just formed a telepathic connection that I don’t know nearly enough about. My species _is_ telepathic, but yours isn’t. I need to make sure you’re alright. I don’t even know how you’re handling it so well to begin with, now that you mention it. I have various _theories_ , but we’ll have to do tests. I have a few machines in the infirmary tha-”

“But it’s barely even noticeable,” Rose cut him off. “I think it can wait until we’re done with this. I’m sure it-”

Her jaw snapped shut and her eyes widened. His worry for her, which had been steadily building as she failed to take it as seriously as he did, skyrocketed. _Did something happen? Is she alright?_ Thousands of potential scenarios raced through his head as the Doctor reached for his sonic screwdriver.

But then he sensed _her_ comforting _him_ through their bond.

Oh.

She’d felt all that.

He really needed to get used to this faster than he was. There was no way he could afford to be this distracted all of the time. 

“It’s _fine_ ,” she reassured him, wrapping her arms around him. “Y’know, now that I think of it, the only time I really notice it is when you’re thinkin’ so much. It’s like you have a hundred different thoughts in just a couple seconds and my brain can’t keep up with all the noise.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” _I’ve been giving her headaches._

 _No, it’s not your_ fault _, ya plum._

She hadn’t spoken to him telepathically since she’d shushed him earlier, and the time before that he had failed to notice that she had been insecure about using it this way. Which was ridiculous. Especially because there was something about hearing her speak directly into his mind that filled him with such incredible awe that he couldn’t begin to articulate it (even to himself).

 _So … potentially … it’s just me. You’re fine_ , he checked, wanting to see what it would be like, having an actual conversation with the bond. As much as he’d been going on about being a proper telepath, Time Lords didn’t have _this_ kind of telepathy. 

_I’m fine_. “Now let’s get going,” Rose added verbally, pushing herself away.

“Yeah! Yes! Of course!”

He dashed back into the console room, pulling her mobile out of his jacket pocket and plugging it into the TARDIS. As he began to work on finding the exact coordinates they needed, the Doctor grew more and more grim. Rose’s attempt at distracting them both had been effective, but it only could have lasted so long.

When he had promised to keep Rose safe, he hadn’t just meant from physical harm. That was included, of course, but what he’d actually meant was _from any possible harm_. Anything that he could do to make sure that she was healthy and happy and smiling. Admittedly, he wasn’t always the best at it, but who would have known how lofty a goal keeping safe one human could possibly be?

Jackie’s well-being was tied intrinsically to Rose’s. And if she hadn’t already realized before they bonded, the cat was out of the bag now - he actually _did_ like her mother (and if he had to admit it mentally, he was _never_ going to admit it out loud - even he had his limits). That _anyone_ \- human, alien, or otherwise - would attempt to use Jackie Tyler to get to him was absolutely _unacceptable_. Something he would _not allow_. 

Dread settled into his bones as the Doctor began piloting them to London.

He was likely going to have to make an example.

A declaration to the universe.

A resounding _No_.

Oh how he hated moments like these.

The Doctor jumped when Rose took his hand. Usually he could tell the moment she entered a room. She smirked, but it was half hearted at best. And he could feel her once again trying to use their connection to soothe him, despite her own thoughts being just as enraged (though much more chaotic).

She glared at the photograph of one Elton Pope currently being displayed on one of the monitors.

“C’mon.” Gritting her teeth, she led him to the TARDIS doors.

He’d let her handle it.

In a moment. Rose paused on the ramp, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. So he left first.

“Someone wants a word with you,” he said, calmly as he could as soon as he exited the TARDIS and laid eyes on the man in question, all the while taking in the rest of the scene that they’d just landed in. As it was, it seemed like a good thing now, Elton trying to get a hold of him.

“You upset my mum,” Rose accused, blatantly ignoring everything else to focus on the object of her ire in a way that the Doctor now heavily associated with being a Tyler-women trait.

“Great big absorbing creature from outer space, and you’re having a go at me?”

Elton had obviously not spent much time with Jackie, all things considered.

 _SHUT IT_.

It took a lot of his superior-Time-Lord-control not to visibly flinch as he tried to figure out exactly what was going on here. There was something strangely familiar about the alien trying to corner them (or, more accurately, who had successfully cornered Elton and done something unforgivable to more innocent humans than he could accurately count). He was sure they’d never personally met, though, and wasn’t even sure he’d seen the _species_. But still ...

“No one upsets my mum.”

“At last,” the difficult-to-identify alien finally spoke, “the greatest feast of all. The Doctor.”

_Ohhh, that doesn’t sound good._

He could feel Rose’s attention shift.

“Interesting,” he began to ramble, hoping to think faster than his impressive gob, while making up names, “a sort of Absorbatrix? Absorbacian? Absorbaloff?”

“Absorbaloff, yes.”

Huh. Well, that’s … convenient?

Still, didn’t do anything to explain the familiarity. In fact, Elton looked familiar as well. Maybe he was just having one of those days.

“Is it me, or is he a bit Slitheen?” Rose chimed in.

_You know, you might be onto something._

“Not from Raxacoricofallapatorius, are you?”

“No I’m not,” the Absorbaloff immediately denied. “They’re swine. I spit on them. I was born on their twin planet.”

“Really? What’s the twin planet of Raxacoricofallapatorius?”

There was always something new to learn, wasn’t there? The Doctor stretched out his senses as they continued ‘chatting’, calculations zooming through his head as he tried to come up with the best case scenario for everyone in this alleyway. Even the ones who no longer had their original bodies.

It wasn’t looking great.

“Clom.”

“Clom,” the Doctor repeated, just to feel the word on his tongue. Not very pleasant. And wildly different from the word ‘Raxacoricofallapatorius’, considering they were twin planets. He couldn’t help but want to know what exactly the history of animosity between the two must be like, all the while still trying to solve the puzzle in front of him.

This time he _could_ feel Rose’s headache and did his best to throw up more barriers.

“Clom, yes. And I’ll return there victorious, once I possess your traveling machine.”

“Well, that’s never going to happen.”

As if this creature could ever hope to fly the TARDIS, even if it _did_ manage to absorb him.

“Oh, it will. You’ll surrender yourself to me, Doctor, or this one dies,” the Absorbaloff threatened, and oh, they _really_ shouldn’t have done _that_. “You see, I’ve read about you, Doctor. I’ve studied you. So passionate, so sweet. You wouldn’t let an innocent man die. And I’ll absorb him, unless you give yourself to me.”

“Sweet, maybe,” he shrugged, scratching the back of his neck and tugging on his ear. “Passionate, I suppose.” 

A few memories from the night before played out involuntarily, and he knew that Rose had caught that. And he really hadn’t done it on purpose, but her flustered mental reaction was certainly worth the accident. He would have to remember that for future occasions.

“But don’t ever mistake that for nice,” the Doctor finished. “Do what you want.”

Rose almost told him off, but held back once she realized he wasn’t serious.

“He’ll die, Doctor,” the Absorbaloff repeated.

“Go on, then.”

It was a bluff, but he was quite sure they were both bluffing at this point. And of the two of them, the Doctor now had the beginnings of a plan - one that he hoped would actually work. Rose’s eyes were wide as she tried to wait for it to play out.

“So be it.”

“Mind you, the others might have something to say.”

“Others?”

And then it all started to come together, the humans that had already been absorbed easily picking up on what he’d been implying. Working together to protect their friend.

LINDA. Where had he heard that before?

Must have been centuries ago. He’d ponder it later, or it’d come to him when he needed it. One or the other.

Because he finally recalled where he had met Elton before.

Elton, who had just snapped the Absorbaloff’s cane in half. The Doctor and Rose watched in morbid fascination as the creature seemed to melt into the concrete.

“What did I do?” he asked, horrified.

“The cane created a limitation field,” the Doctor explained. “Now it’s broken, he can’t stop. The absorber is being absorbed.”

“By what?”

“By the Earth.”

One of the faces attempted to impose itself onto the slab of concrete, the young woman who had figured it out first.

“Byebye, Elton. Byebye.”

Then she was gone.

“Who was she?” Rose asked.

“That was Ursula.”

All of her previous angry thoughts were forgotten as she embraced the distraught man. Experiencing her compassion for others through their bond was _incredible_ . She truly was marvelous, his Rose. So much better than him, so much more _good_. He didn’t know what he ever did that the Universe would reward him with her, because by his count he most certainly didn’t deserve her. Yet here he was.

A brief tendril of _Rose_ shot through his mind, carrying a mixture of sympathy, love, and irritation. Something he’d thought had obviously upset her, but there was nothing for that right now. 

He owed Elton an explanation, something he should have taken the time to do weeks ago, _decades_ ago from the other man’s perspective. Maybe if he had, none of this would have happened. No matter which way you looked at it, it was ultimately his fault.

So they sat down and the Doctor explained it, everything. The Elemental Shade, his failure then that echoed his failure now. Because that’s what he’d done for Elton Pope - failed him. The most he could do to make up for it was use the sonic to key into the absorption matrix, giving his friend - girlfriend? - what life he could. It was a half-life, but it was _something_. He had needed to do _something_.

Soon enough he and Rose stepped back into the TARDIS. She was _fuming_. The Doctor had been ignoring her increasing anger towards him, and he would be quite content to continue doing so. 

“Oh no ya don’t!”

This time he wasn’t even surprised that she caught the thought.

“What?” he asked, turning around from where he was about to begin piloting the TARDIS away.

“I don’t even know where to start!” Rose exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t know if I’m mad at you or sad for you! And even then, I’m still mad that you never talk to me about anything important!”

The Doctor wished that sharing a bond had made any of that more comprehensible to him, but it all was just too _human_. He imagined that this was how Rose must feel right before his Time Lord brain started to give her a headache.

“Well what did I do? Is this about the Elemental Shade?” he asked, but wait- no, she had been irritated before that.

“For a start! When was this? You never told me anythin’ about an Elemental Shade from the Howling Hells.”

She crossed her arms and the Doctor found himself mirroring her posture.

“Howling _Halls_.”

Her mind almost (but not quite) zapped his, which reminded him too much of the TARDIS for his liking. “Now is _so_ not the time,” Rose scowled.

“You were asleep.”

“So? You wake me up any other time.”

“Not this time. Not for that. It was too dangerous. Much too dangerous for humans.”

“Well what about you?” she asked, her body finally unclenching enough for her to walk closer to him - almost touching distance, but not quite. The Doctor’s fingers twitched. He wanted to touch her. 

“I’m not human,” he informed her, words feeling dead on his tongue. As if she didn’t already know. But he’d always found that it wasn’t something he could repeat enough. Something so easy for others to forget, despite how painfully aware of it he was at all times.

Because _oh_ , how he wished sometimes that he _could be_. How much more _simple_ everything would be. How much more _happier_ he could be, without the weight of who he was and what he had done constantly trying to crush him. 

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Rose said - and were those tears in her eyes? “I’m more upset about _this_ anyway. The way you think about yourself. That you don’t deserve me, or that you’re a failure, or that you’re not _worth_ it. _I love you_. And if anyone else had said all those things about you, I woulda slapped ‘em by now!”

This was so far out of the realm of what the Doctor had been expecting her to say, he found himself speechless.

“I know you can’t help it, it’s your thoughts. They’re just- I just … I wish you’d share that kind of stuff with me. You’re always talkin’ any other time. And that stuff really matters. Or at least it does to me.”

So very, very human.

“I’m sorry, and I mean I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, because I’m not sorry for- for having whatever thoughts I have or feeling a way at any given time. That would be ridiculous,” he began, finally giving into his need to touch her, pulling Rose into a tight hug, “and would really get us nowhere. And I want to tell you that I’ll try, but really, I d- it doesn’t come naturally to me, all of the talking-about-feelings that you lot do.” The Doctor let go of her, but only to then grab her hand and pull her over to the jumpseat. “Y’know what, though?”

“What?” she asked with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. He could feel her exhaustion bleeding through their connection and remembered how early he had gotten her up this morning (no wonder she was so cranky - and _oh_ , he hoped she hadn’t caught that one).

“I can promise you that I _want_ you to know. That every time you feel what I’m feeling through this new, baffling, impossible bond we share, I’m okay with it. Because quite frankly, it’s probably the only way I can reliably share that kind of thing with you. And I wish I could verbalize everything the way you do, and for a Time Lord I really a- I was much more open than was socially acceptable. Still. It’s not the same. I know it’s not.” _I just hope that this is enough. That_ I _can be enough_.

“Of course you’re enough,” she told him, cuddling closer and turning her head to place a kiss on his jaw. He quickly leaned down, capturing her lips to indulge in his new favorite activity. Well … one of them, at least. 

“So, where to now?” he asked her, once she pulled away.

“We’ve gotta go to my mum’s,” Rose said, as if that had been obvious.

“Right!” he jumped up and headed to the console, and he knew that she knew that he was just pretending he had been planning to take them there, but oh well. There were going to be loads of habits that would have to get adjusted now that they were mentally linked. So he ended up asking, “So … why are we going to see Jackie?”

“Well for starters, ‘cause I _told her_ we would, or did ya miss that bit when you were eavesdroppin’ earlier?”

He hadn’t, but Rose always told Jackie they’d be over to visit soon. _Soon_ was a very relative word, though. Could mean anything.

Thankfully she ignored all that, gripping the side of the console as he began the dematerialization sequence.

“I need to let her know what all happened with Elton, and that he won’t be botherin’ her again.”

The Doctor nodded, racing to the other side of the console to set their flight path. Should be an easy trip, since they didn’t need to do any time travelling. Or did they? He’d forgotten to check Rose’s mobile. Oh well, they were already moving. And _soon_ was relative.

“Plus,” she continued, “we gotta tell mum the news.”

“What news?” he asked, just as the TARDIS finished materializing. He checked the monitor - they had landed in Jackie’s sitting room again (and he was sure that she would tell him off for it again as well, but it was _so_ much easier than landing anywhere else, who cared if it took up extra space).

Rose looked at him as if he’d just dribbled on his shirt. Her baffled mental presence didn’t make him feel great, either.

“That we’re _married_?!”

“WHAT?!”

The premonition of the slap he was about to get seemed so realistic that he could almost _feel_ it. The Doctor rubbed his cheek. A few dozen plans to get out of this floated through his head, most of which involved him hiding in the bowels of his ship.

“Fine, hide away then,” Rose rolled her eyes before turning toward the doors.

“B-but she’s- Rose! It’s- she’s not- of course you’re fine with telling her, she _likes_ you! I mean, of course she does, you’re her daughter. _I’m_ the alien who took her daughter away and brought her home a year late and has constantly put her in peril ever since. Why can’t we wait to tell her?”

“Wait ‘til when? And my mum likes you.”

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed, pulling at his hair, “At least until after the honeymoon? And even if she does like me, I doubt she will after this.”

The shrug he got in return wasn’t very reassuring.

“Bet there’s a better chance of her comin’ back around if you actually leave the ship. Makin’ me do this on my own isn’t gonna give you any points, y’know.”

Loud knocking began on the TARDIS doors. He was running out of time.

“Fine,” he conceded, clenching his hands into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palms. 

“ _Hello?! What are you two doin’ in there?!_ ” Jackie called, still knocking.

He caught up to Rose and pushed her toward the doors. “You first.”

And the bond made it blatantly clear that she was not at all impressed with him at this moment, but the Doctor found himself caring much less than he usually would. He was, quite frankly, much too terrified of Jackie to worry about Rose judging him. As it was, she already knew he was a coward.

She reached back, grabbing his hand and weaving their fingers together, giving it a squeeze as she opened the TARDIS doors and they stepped out into the flat.

“What took ya so long in there?” Jackie asked, immediately wrapping Rose in a giant hug, causing their hands to separate. The Doctor took this as an opportunity to get as far away from her mother as possible, quickly leaping over the sofa.

“Hello Jackie!” he called, half skipping into the kitchen. “Fancy a cuppa? We’ve had quite the morning! I’m sure Rose would love one. I’ll be just a tick.”

“What’s he on about now?” he heard Jackie ask Rose before she called out, “Yeah, I suppose I could do with one. I’ll put my own sugar in this time, ta.”

“We just finished up dealin’ with Elton,” Rose told her mother, the Doctor listening in as he filled up the kettle.

“What? Really?! That was days ago I rang you. What took ya so long?”

He projected his contrition across the bond. Definitely should have checked the mobile. The TARDIS had tracked down Elton, landing them where they were needed, as she always does. But he could have taken the time to properly get them to Jackie.

“Time got funny when we were goin’ to find Elton,” he could hear Rose say, grossly oversimplifying everything he had just thought. But still, easier than if he had tried to explain it to Jackie, especially considering the fact that Rose’s mother always ignored his attempts to share his impressive knowledge of time and space travel (which, really! There were scientists and governments all over this planet who would jump at the chance to get such accurate information).

The kettle clicked, and he rummaged around for the cups and tea and almost forgot not to fix Jackie’s, but thankfully Rose reminded him at the last moment, even as she continued to talk to her mother about the Absorbaloff. The Doctor tried and failed to not get giddy about the use of their telepathic connection - he’d always wanted to experience this type of telepathy, and now to have it exclusively with the woman that he loved and trusted to be in his mind … it was amazing.

He didn’t realize he wore a dorky smile as he exited the kitchen with the tea tray until Rose looked up at him from her seat on the sofa, sending the image back to him coated in a warmth that had his hearts pounding. 

But then Jackie turned around as well, and a bucket of ice water may as well have just been dumped on him. He quickly edged around the sofa, almost spilling the tea as he set everything down on the coffee table before taking a seat next to Rose and trying his best to hide behind her.

“Where’s the sugar?” Jackie asked, looking skeptically at the tray.

“Oh! Right. Forgot it. Gimme a mo’.” The Doctor made a move to climb over the couch again, but was stopped immediately.

“Sit down. You’ve been actin’ squirrely since the moment you stepped outta that box of yours.” Her eyes narrowed. “Somethin’s up with you two. So go on. Tell me. And I know it’s got nothin’ to do with freaky absorbing aliens.”

Jackie crossed her arms and glared at him, and why didn’t Rose get any of this glaring? He _knew_ something like this would happen!

“Uhm … well … mum … we …” Rose tried to start explaining, but was hit by a wave of nerves that the Doctor was sure his own thoughts were doing nothing to help with.

“Spit it out!”

“We kind of, accidentally, uhm … got married.”

“WHAT?!!”

The Doctor scrunched down, doing his best to use Rose as a shield from any and all oncoming slaps.

“It was an accident!” Rose repeated.

“How do you _accidentally_ get married?!!”

“It- there was … it’s not like there was a marriage _ceremony_ ,” Rose tried to explain, “it was- we were telepathically connected, and-”

“ _You were doin’ some freaky alien thing in my baby’s head?!_ ” Jackie’s shrill voice appeared to double, echoing across their shared connection and they both winced.

“It was an accident,” the Doctor reiterated as his now-technically-mother-in-law stood up and he realized that he was currently a sitting duck, cowering on the couch like this.

“I suppose you’re gonna tell me that you were somehow savin’ the world?” Jackie asked, hands on her hips as she glowered down at him.

“Uhm … no …”

He wished that were the case _now_ , though.

“Then tell me, Doctor, how did you _accidentally_ marry my daughter?”

She wasn’t yelling anymore, and somehow that was worse.

He could feel his face heating up as he thought of how they’d ended up bonding and _bloody hell_ , he could NOT tell Jackie _any_ of that. Forget just getting a slap. She would _regenerate_ him!

“Well, it’s kind of hard to explain. Really, you would have had to-” the Doctor stopped himself from finishing that sentence. ‘You would have had to have been there’ is not something to say to your bondmate’s mother when referring to shagging said bondmate.

_Bondmate?_

Despite it being a question, hearing the word in Rose’s telepathic voice sent a fissure of pleasure down his spine (which he had to quickly tamp down).

“It’s like … well, we had … err …” There was no way he would be able to answer Jackie’s question. No way.

“Oh my god!” she shouted. “This was some FREAKY ALIEN SEX THING, WASN’T IT?!”

Sometimes the Doctor forgot quite how perceptive Rose’s mother could be. That being said, he was quite sure the entirety of London had heard her, and his excellent Time Lord fight-or-flight reactions had him diving behind the sofa, which was a much better shield than Rose. Covered much more area. Plus, if he tried hard enough, he could hide _under_ it - he was quite skinny, it could work. Maybe.

“And you, missy! You kept telling me it wasn’t like that, but I knew better!”

_What? What?! WHAT?!_

He peeked up, and Rose’s exasperation was a visual, auditory and telepathic experience.

“I wasn’t lyin’,” she told her mother. “We- last night was our first … and like we said, it was an accident.”

“You didn’t _accidentally_ have sex with an alien.”

“Mum!” Now she stood up, and the Doctor would found himself really wanting to know what his chances were of making it safely back into the TARDIS before the plan was thrown out the window at Rose’s (quite painful) telepathic reprimand. “The sex part wasn’t the accident, the married part was.”

“And really, how were we to know?” He started talking, hoping that maybe something helpful would come out of it. “The marriage bond is such an ancient tradition, hadn’t been in practice by my people in millenia. So really, it-”

“Then I don’t see how it counts,” Jackie interrupted. “Doin’ some outdated ritual or some such. The way I see it, if it’s not a proper Earth wedding, you two aren’t married. Not really.”

“But we are,” Rose countered, and it was almost like the Doctor fell in love again as she defended their bond. “We’re telepathically connected to each other. We can hear each other's thoughts. That’s more married than signin’ some papers and standin’ in a church.”

And he loved Rose. He loved her _so much_. So the Doctor made sure to project _that_ , even as he finally crawled away (into Rose’s old room since he was quite sure if he entered the TARDIS, he wouldn’t have to worry about just Jackie giving him a smack).

It was humiliating. The last of the Time Lords, forced to sonic himself shut in his mother-in-law’s flat. He did his best to ignore the conversation going on in the other room (conversation being a polite term, as it really was more of a row) _and_ the bond. He’d done the maths, and this was the safest place for him to be, he was quite sure. 

Safe, but also boring.

 _You know what isn’t boring_ , he thought, _the Rhibelini Festival on Neghlyvryn_. _If we_ ever _make it there._

It seemed like ages ago that he had first thought to take Rose there, even if it had only been about 24 relative Earth-hours. Everything since then had been a whirlwind.

So the Doctor sat on Rose’s old bed and fiddled with the alarm clock that had been on the nightstand, trying to think happy thoughts about anything other than what was going on in the flat outside of these four boring walls. Nearly half an hour passed before a knock sounded on the door, and he had just gotten the clock radio to pick up a South Korean pop station (it appeared to be very resistant to intergalactic radio, and he wondered if it belonging to Jackie had something to do with it - stranger things had proven to be true). 

“You can come out now, you git,” Rose announced, and he winced.

Definitely deserved that one.

He slowly walked to the door, opened it a crack, and took in his bondmate’s angry tear-streaked face. Oh, bollocks. _She’s right, I’m a great big outerspace git_. 

“Yeah, y’are,” she sniffed, stepping away as he sheepishly exited the room.

“I know I’ve said it a lot today, but I _am_ sorry,” he whispered, not seeing Jackie anywhere but still not wanting to be overheard.

“Whatever,” she sighed, turning around and collapsing back onto the sofa.

“Where’s Jackie?” he asked, taking the time to listen and not hearing her anywhere in the flat.

“She went out to get stuff for tea. We’re stayin’ to eat.”

It wasn’t a request.

“Alright?” He hadn’t meant it to sound like a question, but the Doctor wasn’t sure how one went from fighting to having dinner plans.

“We reached an agreement.”

Nothing about that sentence made him feel the least bit alright.

“And what’s that then?” he asked when Rose wasn’t immediately forthcoming. Her end of the bond was oddly silent, and he was quite curious as to how she had figured out how to do that.

“I didn’t figure out anything,” she answered, “I’m just too tired to even _think_ properly. And as for the agreement, mum wants an Earth wedding. We haveta get married _here_. And she’s gonna invite people.”

“Oh.”

This was _not_ good.

“Really?! After all that, you don’t wanna marry me when it’s _my_ planet’s traditions? Accidentally bonding is fine, but an Earth wedding is where you’re drawin’ the line?!”

“No! No no no no no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that it’s- I’ve met your mother, Rose Tyler, and this- she’s going to make it an _event_. She’s going to make me wear a tux! There will be small talk and caterers and- and- and who knows what else! Not to mention that she’s going to make me pretend to be human for her friends _again_ , and who knows what will happen once UNIT gets wind of it, because you know they will. I’ll probably have to _call_ them, see if I have _any_ paperwork, because your mum is going to make us do the paperwork. It’s just- it’s not- it’s not the bit about _loving_ you enough to get married, it’s- it’s the _hassle_ of-”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” she finally interrupted him, and thank _goodness_ , because he didn’t know if his gob would ever stop otherwise. “I get it. You’re an alien. We’ll figure it all out later.”

Her eyes were shut, and he could feel how positively knackered she was, and he wished that they didn’t have to stay for tea and could just fly off on the TARDIS. Rose could have a kip and then they could start that honeymoon - and they didn’t even have to go to Neghlyvryn if Rose didn’t want to. He sat down next to her and was quite pleased when she didn’t protest him cuddling her.

“You’re really gonna have to tell me what’s got you so excited about that place,” she mumbled.

“Later,” he whispered into her ear, “when you’re more awake.”

“I needta take a shower,” she sighed, pushing herself up, out of his arms, and off of the sofa. The Doctor followed her like a lost puppy, surprised when she entered the TARDIS instead of going to use the shower in the flat.

“None of my stuff’s in there,” Rose explained, leading them into her room. “If my mum gets home before I’m finished, she’s just gonna have to deal with it.”

She was so unhappy, and he wished she was happy but he didn’t know what he could possibly do to make it better. He really was turning out to be a rubbish husband, not even a full day in.

“Shh.” Rose stopped in front of her door and turned, cupping his face. “It’s gonna be fine, yeah? You’re not rubbish. And you’re not doin’ so bad at cheering me up, because I really liked hearing that.”

“Hearing what?” he asked, a little dazed as he glanced down at her lips.

“You thinking of yourself as my husband. I like it.”

“And you’re my wife,” he added, before swooping her into his arms in a bridal carry.

“Oh!”

“I do know _some_ Earth traditions,” the Doctor told her, kicking open her door. “And I believe I’m meant to carry you across the threshold.”

Rose giggled as they entered the room, and he had planned on dropping her onto her bed, but it was piled with a bunch of random things. He raised his eyebrows as he sat her onto the floor, eyes not leaving the bed. It was the first time since all this started that he was able to think about her cleaning adventure without feeling the corresponding clawing terror that she would leave him.

Distracted by that thought, it took him a moment to notice as she pushed him toward the bed and then turned him around.

“Take a seat,” she told him before moving over to her dresser.

“You did this before,” he realized, thinking back to the last time he had entered her room. “Why do you want me sitting on your bed?”

“Because, that’s my keep pile,” was Rose’s matter-of-fact answer before she disappeared into her ensuite with the clothes she’d just picked out.

Her keep pile.

She wanted to _keep_ him.

The Doctor smiled, swinging his legs, suddenly content to simply wait right here until she was done. Her keep pile. He really didn’t mind, and the prospect of tea with Jackie also didn’t seem quite so daunting, nor did their impending _planned_ nuptials.

Because she wanted to keep him, and that meant that for however long they would have together, he would get to keep her, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback!


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